#my writing style is inconsistent at best

[darkkitty1208]

Words are the closest thing to a way I can make sense of my somewhat-of-a-self-identity-crisis-but-in-writing thing, and even then it can only express a mere fraction of whatever it is that I'm feeling. So bear with me as I try to verbalise this in an at least semi-coherent way.

I've been trying out a variety of writing styles and techniques lately. I've been discovering ways to do more of 'showing' and less of 'telling'.

I like the indirectness of it.

Actually, no -- that's not quite it. That's not it at all.

I think I like telling stories obliquely and only providing vague details not only because I'm a lazy arse who has no idea how to describe things in a direct and clear way but also because-- actually, I have no idea how to explain this in a way that isn't incomprehensible.

I can't quite explain it, but I think I like stories that can only be told in a vague way, like providing the puzzle pieces so that you get to piece things together the way you want it. The resulting picture would just be your own interpretation. I just like being subtle and merely imply the meaning of some things so anyone can interpret my stories their own way.

No, no. That doesn't make any sense either, does it?

And that's only one of the many things I'm still trying out and working on!

It's just. There's so much to try! I don't even know what I want. I've said this in my recent fic's A/N and I'll just say it again here: I'm experimenting with different things in writing the way a child would mix soap and shampoo in a bath. Which is a waste of time (and of shampoo and soap, which clearly does not apply in this scenario, but again, really cba to think of a better analogy here) but I can't help it because it's so fun.

Sometimes I think I don't even *have* a style. Sometimes I think I'll never have one. But I dunno.

Just ignore me as I try to mull this over. I'm just 'in my feels' and screaming this out into the abyss that's in the form of my silly little blog. Thank you for indulging me.

[snowballseal]

Hi! I really adore your writing. You have really caught each guys essences.

If your requests are open, I was thinking of something like how each guy would carry you and in what type of scenario. I thought Zayne would do bridal style and Sylus over the shoulder, but if you see it differently, feel free to do it as you see fit 😊

How they would carry you (LaDS)

Note: This was such a cute request!! I had fun writing it, though I definitely rewrote Rafayel's like three times cause I couldn't make up my mind on the scenario. I went with a different idea for Zayne, but I think you'll like it ;)

I really hope you enjoy this! And I hope I wrote them all well. Thank you for the request.

Also, I'm incredibly sleep-deprived, so I apologize for any mistakes/inconsistencies.

---

Sylus *over the shoulder*

“My feet hurt,” you grumble.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have worn such cheap shoes,” Sylus hums, voice bordering on between teasing and mocking.

You shoot the man a glare. He gives you a smug smile in return, arms crossing over his chest.

Of course he’s right. But you can’t admit that, not after you made such a fuss about ignoring his warning before the night began. You had been stubborn, maybe a little too stubborn. The restaurant you were going to was just so nice, how could you not wear heels? You wanted to look nice for your date, and they paired so well with your dark cocktail dress. Of course you’d forgotten about how much they hate your feet.

Every step feels like a bunch of nails digging into your feet. Why did you park so far away? Oh right, because you thought the night was so nice, you wanted to take a little walk before dinner…Not your best idea in retrospect.

Another step makes you wince.

Sylus suddenly stops. This forces you to pause as well, your arm curled around his elbow as you walk. You glance at him questioningly, trying to hide the pain, not wanting to bother him further by complaining. Or endure more of his teasing.

But his gaze burns over you intensely. You shift a little, heat climbing up your cheeks, but putting your weight on your other foot only makes that prickling pain shoot up your leg, and you can’t stop your lips from twisting into a light grimace.

For a brief moment, Sylus’ face softens. He lets out a sigh before removing his jacket. Your brow furrows as he slips it around your waist, the warmth of the fabric covering your bare legs.

“Sylus?”

“I’m not so cruel as to make a woman suffer, kitten,” he hums, securing the coat by tying the sleeves. He then leans up to your face, lips quirking up into a smirk. “Especially when she got all dolled up and pretty just for me.”

Before you can blush even darker, you’re suddenly being thrown over his broad shoulder. You let out an undignified squeak, instinctively squirming to try and get out of his grip. You kick your legs, hands scrambling against his back.

“Sylus!”

“Careful, kitten, otherwise I might drop you,” Sylus warns, voice dancing with amusement. His hand slips below the hem of his jacket to curl over the back of your thighs, locking them to his chest. You freeze, heart fluttering wildly. 

What a brute.

Though, there’s really nothing you can do to escape this man. Not that you really want to.

“Sylus, seriously, this isn’t funny,” you still whine, trying to keep face.

“Would you rather walk barefoot?”

Your nose scrunches at the thought. While you are in a nicer part of the city, it still sounds gross. You guess this is the lesser of two evils. Letting out a defeated sigh, you prop your elbows against his back to try to get comfortable. Also trying to ignore how defined his muscles feel against you.

Sylus hums approvingly, “There you go, kitten. Just relax.” 

His hand tenderly squeezes your thigh and you’re actually thankful he can’t see just how red your face is. Probably as red as the wine you had with dinner.

It’s definitely embarrassing. Especially when you pass by a few people, catching their odd stares. But it’s hard to care when Sylus starts massaging your legs, his touch overwhelmingly gentle in contrast to his previous actions. His thumb presses firm circles into your ankle, drawing a breathy sigh from you.

“Feel better, sweetie?” He murmurs, and you can feel his voice rumble through your body.

“Definitely helps,” you breathe, “Though you could have just carried me in a more comfortable way, Sy.”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?”

“This isn’t fun for me,” you grumble petulantly.

Sylus shifts, suddenly putting you down. You blink in surprise when you find yourself sitting on the hood of a familiar car, your lover leaning over you. His fingers trace your leg, grazing up your arm, until he can cup your cheek, bringing your faces so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.

“And how can I make it up to you, my dear?” He purrs lowly, lips grazing yours teasingly.

“Well-” Letting out a shaky breath, you reach up and slip your arms around his neck. A blush still coats your cheeks, but you give him your best innocent look, pouting your lips as you mess with the silver strands at the nape of his neck. “I think a full massage at home might make up for the discomfort. The last one you gave me was pretty nice.”

Sylus quirks a brow in amusement, “Is that all?”

“Nope. I also want you to watch a sappy romcom with me. Then I’ll forgive your brutish ways.”

That breaks the intense air between you. Sylus chuckles, the sound deep and fond, making you smile. He leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I accept your terms, kitten.”

“Good. Now chop chop, mister! Let’s get home!”

---

Zayne *koala style*

“Darling.”

Your eyes flicker open, eyelids heavy. Letting out a sleepy hum, you drag your blurry gaze to meet a pair of warm, hazel eyes. Zayne kneels beside the car, thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek to keep you from falling back asleep. You lean into his touch with a content sound, making him smile.

“We’ve arrived home,” he murmurs, voice quiet, “Would you like me to carry you inside?”

You nod, head still fuzzy with sleep. All you can really focus on is that you don’t want his touch to go away. It feels so nice.

“Alright. Can you wrap your arms around my neck for me, darling?”

You reach out blearily, your fingers blindly finding their way into the soft strands of hair at his nape. Zayne carefully turns you until your legs dangle out of the car, giving him a better angle to slip an arm under you. He picks you up like you weigh nothing, drawing you flush against his chest.

You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, letting out another happy hum as he readjusts you so you can tuck your face into his neck. One of his hands stays secured under you, the other sliding up to hold the back of your neck tenderly.

It’s almost impossible to not fall back asleep like this. Surrounded by his warmth, his fingers massaging your neck so lovingly, the gentle sway of his body as he walks. Your eyes flicker closed again as you nuzzle deeper into your lover.

You love when Zayne holds you like this. Not that bridal style isn’t nice, but this is just so much closer, so much easier for you to wrap yourself around him. Plus you like the feeling of his fingers gripping your thighs, reminding you of just how strong the doctor is. It just makes you feel…safe.

“Wish you’d carry me like this more,” you mumble thoughtlessly into his neck.

“Is that so?” Zayne hums, a small smile curling his lips.

“Mhm.” 

You press a sluggish kiss to his collarbone to show just how much you like it. Zayne’s steps falter imperceptibly. But you notice, a bubbly giggle escaping you.

“Don’t trip, Doctor Zayne,” you tease sleepily.

He pinches your thigh in warning. “Perhaps a certain hunter shouldn’t be so distracting.”

You squeak, pulling yourself further up by his shoulders. Zayne chuckles, palm smoothing over the spot, though he didn’t actually pinch you that hard. Still. You draw back a little to pout at him.

“So mean, Doctor Zayne. What if I bruise?”

“My apologies, darling,” he murmurs, not at all apologetic. You hold your pout, only weakening when he tilts his face up to brush your noses together. “I’ll be sure to treat it once we get inside. A kiss should do, hm?”

God, he’s so perfect. You’re not sure your heart can take it. The warmth behind his eyes, the small, rare show of affection. It leaves a lingering heat under your skin that turns your cheeks rosy pink, and you duck your face back into his shoulder to hide your blush.

“So, so mean,” you grumble.

A fond smile graces Zayne’s lips. If he’s being honest, he likes carrying you like this. He likes how you feel in his arms, your weight, your warmth, the rise and fall of your chest against his. It’s not often you let him take care of you without complaint, so he takes full advantage of when you do. It helps calm whatever deep-seated need he has to look after you.

The fact that you’re so easy to fluster is a mere bonus.

You settle back into a comfortable silence, barely paying attention as Zayne navigates through your apartment complex. You only notice when he shifts his arm further under you so he can fish his keys from his back pocket and unlock your shared apartment.

He doesn’t bother to turn on any lights as he carries you through your home, straight to your room. You grumble as he bends down to set you on the edge of the bed, your fingers tightening around his neck when he starts to draw back.

“Don’t go,” you plead softly.

“Wouldn’t you rather be in more comfortable clothes, sweetheart?”

“‘m already comfy,” you assure him, leaning against his chest, “Just take your pants off and cuddle with me.”

“What a bold patient I have,” he teases, though his voice dips into a low timber that makes you shiver.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, doctor,” you whisper, a little bashful, cheeks going warm again. “Just don’t want you to stop holding me.”

Zayne softens. His fingers trace along your heated cheek, drawing you back just enough so he can lean down and capture your lips in a lingering kiss. You press into him immediately, a delighted sigh passing your lips when he settles onto the bed beside you. When the kiss ends, you tuck yourself back into his side, content once again now that you get your way. A drawn-out yawn escapes you, and Zayne curls his arms around your waist, guiding you so your head can rest against his chest.

“Sleep now, I won’t go anywhere,” he promises softly into your hair.

“Mmm, love you, Zayne.”

“I love you too, my snowflake.

---

Rafayel *bridal style*

“Oh, “ you chirp, cool air washing over you as you step out of the venue, “it’s raining.”

The two of you were attending the opening night of Rafayel’s new exhibit. You’re surprised you didn’t even hear the rain, considering the streets look about flooded already. Puddles collect along the sidewalk, a small river running along the edge of the road. Paired with the rapidly setting sun, it leaves a chill in the air that makes you shiver slightly.

“I like it,” Rafayel hums and drapes an arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. You glance at him, biting back a smile when he playfully avoids your gaze, as if trying to keep your warm might hurt his “cool” factor. “The smell of the ocean is stronger when it rains, don’t you think? And the puddles look like tide pools.”

“They certainly do,” you giggle, “though neither of us are really prepared for the rain. Should we call a cab? I’d hate to ruin these shoes since you just got them for me.”

You look down at the kitten heels you’d worn for the event. They’re so cute, a soft baby blue color, decorated with little pearls. You remember pointing them out to Rafayel on one of your walks down the pier. They were just so pretty, and reminded you so much of him in a way, but the price was out of your range. Not that it deterred Rafayel, of course, who secretly went back the next day to get them for you.

A pair of shoes really shouldn’t mean that much to you, but every gift from Rafayel feels special. You can’t bear the thought of messing them up.

“Hmm, I think I have an easy solution.”

You let out a squeak when Rafayel suddenly ducks and sweeps you up into his arms, bridal style. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him for dear life at the sudden loss of balance. The sound of Rafayel’s laughter rings in the air, light and full of mirth, as he dashes into the rain with you.

“Rafayel!” You squawk and break into your own fit of laughter despite the icy cold rain immediately drenching your clothes. “Rafayel! Put me down!!”

“I’m already carrying you, putting you down would just be more work,” he teases, that infuriatingly charming smile pulling at his lips. “Now you don’t have to worry about the puddles, at least.”

“But we’re still getting soaked!” You squeal, trying to hide away from the rain by tucking your face into his neck. “Why didn’t we just call a cab?”

“A little rain won’t hurt us, yeah?”

“Says the merman. It’s freezing.”

Rafayel chuckles, the sound close to your ear. Warmth blooms across your cheeks when he presses a kiss to your temple, the touch lingering and soft with adoration, making everything slow down for just a moment.

“Then hold me tight.” he whispers, voice dipping to a low rumble that has your heart racing, “Take my warmth. It’s yours, my beloved bride.”

Any remaining complaints get lost somewhere in your throat. The heat under your skin rivals the cold. A dark blush coats your cheeks, and you try to bury yourself against his chest. You can’t hide from him though, your neck just as rosy, and you can practically feel Rafayel beaming with pride.

Stupid fish.

But he is warm.

You let out a wavering sigh, pressing the cold tip of your nose into the warm crook of his neck. Rafayel shivers, but his hold around you only tightens, as if he wants to envelop you in the heat of his body. It’s almost like being held by one of those heat up stuffies. It’s so comfortable, you can’t help but melt into him, fondness for the merman curling deep inside your bones.

“Do you always run this warm?” You murmur and rest your cheek against his shoulder so you can look at his face.

“Not always,” he hums. A stray drop of rain drips down his jaw and you reach to brush it away. Rafayel’s voice shakes almost imperceptibly at the touch, the tips of his ears going red, “For the most part, Lumerians endure harsh, cold temperatures, so we actually run colder than you humans.”

“Then why are you so warm?” You ask curiously.

His blush only spreads, until his cheeks match yours. The artist glances away, almost looking embarrassed to admit, “My fire evol is useful for more than just fighting wanderers, you know.”

Ah. So he can warm himself up with his evol. And he’s doing it to keep you warm.

The revelation fills your chest with a giddy kind of love. Like, a fuzzy, dizzy kind of love. You bite back the urge to keep teasing him, to see just how red he can get. God, how can you love this man so much? Every new thing you learn about him, every surprise he somehow pulls out of his sleeve, leaves you slipping further into the ocean of affection you’re already drowning in. The rain is nothing in comparison.

“I guess you’re my knight in shining armor, then,” you sigh wistfully, “Against the wanderers and the cold weather.”

“That’s right.” Rafayel puffs out his chest a little, almost like a preening bird. A giggle escapes your lips, and he gives you one of those heart-stopping smiles. “You should really thank your knight in shining armor, cutie. Otherwise I might not feel so inclined to swoop in to save you next time.”

“Well, thank you, Rafayel.” In the blink of an eye, you reach up and draw his face down to yours, capturing his lips in a chaste, yet searing kiss. The artist jumps back, eyes wide as he stares down at your mischievous grin. “Even though we could have just taken a cab and avoided all of this.”

His shock quickly turns into a pout.

“You’re no fun, cutie.”

---

Xavier *piggyback style*

“Really, I’m fine, Xav-”

You wince as Xavier gently flexes your foot, hot pain prickling up your leg. The hunter gives you a rather disapproving look.

“You do not have to lie to me,” he sighs and lowers your foot back down, “I will not think less of you for being injured.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and you have to tear your eyes away from his soft, unassuming gaze. It really wasn’t that bad. While fighting a wanderer, you had dodged an attack too quickly, somehow, twisting your ankle in the process. You couldn’t just stop fighting though, so you had grit your teeth through the pain until you finished the wanderer off, and then collapsed on a nearby rock. That’s when Xavier had rushed over to you, asking what was wrong.

You attribute your embarrassment to the stubborn bit of pride you carry as a hunter, so used to taking care of yourself that you don’t often let others do it for you.

“I’m really okay, it’s probably just a sprain,” you grumble, “I’ll ice it when I get home.”

“And how exactly do you plan to get home?”

Your nose crinkles. Right. Glancing back at Xavier, you find him looking at you with a small, rather amused smile, eyes sparkling with mirth. The little punk. He really can be mischievous when he wants to, huh?

But you do not have an answer to his question. So you just shrug, letting out a heavy sigh. You’ll just have to rely on him this time it seems.

“Would you like me to carry you?”

Immediately, your blush spreads up your neck, painting your cheeks rosy and warm. Eyes wide, you look at him incredulously.

“Xavier, that’s- I don’t- What?”

“I can carry you.” The hunter tilts his head, much like an adorable puppy. Your heart flutters at the sight. How are you supposed to resist that?

“I mean,” you hesitate, scratching the back of your neck, “if you think that’s the best solution…”

“It’s the simplest one,” Xavier hums, quickly standing up, pulling you carefully to your feet as well.

He turns around, ducking a little so you can get on his back. You hesitate again, though.

“Are you sure?” You ask, voice wavering.

“Positive.” Xavier looks at you over his shoulder. That gentle smile curls his lips again. “Who wouldn’t want to carry a pretty girl on their back?”

God, you hate him sometimes. Shaking your head, you gingerly step closer. You curl your arms tentatively around his shoulders, careful to avoid his neck so you don’t choke him. Then you jump. Xavier catches you with ease, fingers slipping under your thighs to hold you as he stands up straight again. It only takes a moment for him to find his balance as you get comfortable, your chin tucked over his shoulder.

He hardly seems affected by your weight. Like he’s carrying a light backpack. It eases your consciousness a little.

“I always forget just how strong you are,” you mumble.

Xavier holds back a shiver at the way your breath warms his ear. His fingers tighten around your thighs though, thumbs massaging circles into your skin. You hum softly, facing tucking into the collar of his uniform. This is nicer than you thought it’d be.

“You could take a nap until we reach our destination if you’d like.”

“No,” you sigh, though you do feel suddenly exhausted, “That wouldn’t be fair. I want to keep you company.”

“Mm, okay. Then what should we talk about?” Xavier peeks at you, amusement curling in his chest at the thoughtful pout you give.

“How about…what we’ll get for dinner tonight? We did complete the mission, afterall, we deserve a treat.”

A low chuckle escapes the hunter. Tilting his head, he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Whatever you’d like, my star,” he hums, fondness warming his usually calm voice, “Is there something you have in mind?”

“That new diner opened down the block from us, we could try that!” You suggest, excitement lighting up your features, like a kid in front of a christmas tree. You look at him, smile brighter than any star he could compare you to. “What do you think?”

How could he ever resist you?

“Mmm, sounds delicious.”

“Perfect! We’ll go there then!”

You spend the rest of the walk back to the transit station talking about what dishes you might order, what movie to watch as you eat. Anything and everything. Neither of you notice the odd looks you get, too comfortable to care.

You all but forget about the pain in your ankle. Why focus on that when you can focus on the absolutely charming man willing to carry you all this way?

---

Can you tell which characters I main based on this? Just curious.

[kisses4reid]

not our scene | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, - part 1

summary - an undercover mission creates distance between you and spencer, but his hands on your waist closes it.

genre - fem!shyish!reader x spencer, forced proximity, fake relationship, awkward idiots, fluff

warnings - awkwardness, general cm violence and gore, spencer and reader are both awkwardly in love with each other and don’t know it yet, mentions of trafficking

w/c - 3.5k

a/n - was writing this in one part and realised i just couldn’t. *jennifer coolidge aoughhe* sorry that its a bit inconsistent with writing style, and its not my best. trying to get back into writing fics longer than 1k.

part two

A familiar scene, an unfamiliar circumstance. The breath mint you swirled around your mouth had now disintegrated in your surprised stillness, your boss Aaron Hotchner passed you a thick case file with an attentive glance. Spencer cleared his throat, “At parties?” 

“Yes,” your boss’ hard voice returned, “The girls are swapped at banquets and ballroom dances, disguised as simple partner swapping.” Aaron turned towards the large panel screen and motioned towards an ID photo of a balding man. “This is Quinn Webley, he controls all transactions and coordinates the parties and most importantly, security.” 

“That’s why Reid and Y/L/n will be undercover. No offence but you two aren’t very noticeable,” Rossi added onto Hotch’s explanation, earning a small snort from Morgan.

There was no doubt more reasons to be chosen than that. Morgan was too impulsive, Emily could get hot-headed, JJ wasn’t trained for it, and Rossi and Hotch simply had to make sure everything went well from the outside. You and Spencer were the best options for this type of case, not only because of your skill, because of the obvious chemistry that you and Spencer shared. “Now, you’re not to make contact with Webley, all you have to do is watch him and everyone else. Pay close attention to couples, older men in small groups, and to the dances that might take place.” Hotch was not giving you or Spencer a chance to object, or to deject the idea. This was set, no negotiation. Not that you would want to be replaced in this case, it was just the fact that you were: 1. A terrible dancer, and 2. Not the most extroverted person. You nodded along, opening the case to create a personal profile of the women who were trafficked, before the discussion had come to a close, and everyone left the room to start collecting their things. 

Spencer cleared his throat, bringing you out of your analysis to meet his warm eyes. Suddenly, the easy-going banter you and Spencer shared had evaporated, replaced by suffocating silence. He didn’t meet your gaze back, only muttering in the silence, “Can I assume you want me to take the lead on this one?” 

“Oh, yes please.” You smile smally, trying to melt the ice that had somehow solidified between you two. Spencer was awkward, introverted, preferred alone time, but you were shy, quiet, and verbally uncoordinated (and physically). 

He nodded and exited the room, sighing off nerves that had piled themselves onto his shoulders since finding out he’d have to go undercover with the one girl he didn’t want to ruin his relationship with. He didn’t think the case would ruin your friendship, but it could make it harder for him to keep it that way.

Spencer stood straight with Derek peering over his shoulder and into the mirror. Derek picked at some dust on Spencer’s suit jacket as the nervous boy attempted to loop his tie neatly. 

Derek chuckles under his breath and turns the boy by his shoulders to face him, lifting his strong hands to help Spencer with the dark crimson red tie. Spencer silently thanked him with a nod.

“What are you so nervous about, Spencer?” He asked, half joking half serious, “It’s just an undercover mission. You’ve done this plenty of times.” 

“Not like this,” Spencer quickly replied, “Not with…” Her. You. 

Derek opened his mouth slightly and nodded, finally understanding the true reason for Spencer’s bouncing leg and sweaty hands. 

“Don’t freak out too much okay? You need to act like you love her, which won’t be too hard- But you need to do it without looking like you’re afraid of her.” Derek finished tying Reid’s tie and patted him on the chest as a hype up, smiling at him brotherly like. He knew Spencer’s feelings for you, that he liked you. A lot. 

He didn’t know Spencer wouldn’t have to act like he loves you. Spencer bit the inside of his lip nervously and turned to the mirror again, taking his eyes over his slightly unfamiliar reflection. 

The suit is tailored perfectly to his body, making him look trim, lean, and tall. Derek handed him a black bottle of cologne and headed for the door, before a sudden question stopped him.

“Do you… do you think she’s too good for me?” Spencer looked at Derek with big eyes, blinking rapidly. The man stood in slight shock before laughing away the silence, shaking his head in disbelief. He knew Spencer wasn’t accusing him of anything, it was a genuine question. Spencer thought he was lesser, less than what you deserved - even if it was just for a night. 

“Pretty boy, I think she’s happier to be doing this than you know. I think she likes you- I know she likes you-“

“That doesn’t mean-“

“Uh uh uh. No. Trust me, Reid,” Derek opened the hotel door and gestured for Spencer to follow him, “If you don’t trust me, ask her yourself.”

The girls whistled loudly at you like a bunch of old men when you emerged from the bathroom. You spun on your heel (which was way too tall for your liking) to entertain the ladies, JJ clapping her hands together and Garcia smiling so hard you felt your own cheeks burn. 

“Why do fake couples always have to be straight, huh?” Emily joked, and you giggled back at her. You crossed your arms over your chest as you turned to face a standing mirror in the corner of the fancy hotel. 

Your body was wrapped in a silky red, floor length dress, with wide and long sleeves draping over your covered arms like a cloud surrounds a mountain. It cinched at your waist, and stopped at just the right length to expose your 4 inch, black heels. You couldn’t deny that you looked incredible, although your nerves were playing with your head. 

“You look stunning,” Garcia repeated what she said when she was doing your makeup - simple and accentuating - when she noticed your slight anxiety.

Dressing up like this and wearing makeup and styling hair? Not your thing. It’s not that you didn’t like it - you loved being girly. It was just your own insecurities and personal preferences that caused you to wear sweaters and sneakers (anything that wouldn’t bring attention to yourself). 

The girls knew this, and dressed you simply and modestly so as to not add to your nerves that an undercover mission usually invites, and you appreciated it greatly. Although the heels were really high.

You were especially nervous to present yourself like this in front of him.

That’s why you fiddled your hands together, why you looked yourself over in the mirror three times before leaving, why you let the girls completely take over your look. 

You walked out into the hallway, pushing some hair behind your shoulder and letting the other side drape, still getting used to walking in those heels, when you were met with more whistles and compliments. Aaron nodded at you, knowing how abrasive you were to the idea at first, and Rossi and Morgan both asked you to give them a spin - and you did. 

The encouragement lifted your spirits slightly, a smile exploding from your face as a soft blush covered it. This is probably the best you’ve looked in front of them. 

“Where’s her date?” JJ asked, she mentioned that Morgan had the job of matching Spencer’s tie but she didn’t trust him.

“Don’t worry, he’s got on the best dark red tie that we could find. He’s downstairs in the foyer.” 

You scrunched your eyebrows together before Hotch added, “You have to leave together just in case. Precautions, okay?” 

Spencer swapped the position of his hands at least five times in a minute, glancing at the elevator in the all too fancy hotel every time someone emerged from it. He adjusted his tie, and sniffed his wrists to make sure he smelt good for you. He always made sure of it, after you offhandedly mentioned to Emily how smells could either make or break your day. 

You had a lot in common with Spencer, other than the obvious career choice. You were both… weird. Talkative around each other, silent around others. Shy, but confident in your abilities. You both had your things - your’s is smell, his is germs.

And luckily, whenever you went to Spencer’s apartment to drop off or pick up a book, his place always smelt like cleaning products and cologne.

Though now, he smelt like cedar wood and smoke. You tapped him on the back, nerves rushing through you like a teenager on her first date. He jumps slightly, not hearing the last elevator ding in his own worries, and turns on his heels - nearly bumping into you. 

“Woah.” He let that simple word slip before he could even bite his tongue, and a red wash painted his cheeks and ears.

You looked stunning, and Spencer was simply awestruck. 

You pushed a straightened piece of hair behind your ears and smiled shyly down at your feet, not letting yourself look at him for too long in fear that you’d melt into a puddle. Spencer cleared his throat to contain himself, and held out his arm for you to thread your own through. 

“Are you okay? Your hands are shaking.” You ask timidly - very unlike how you normally were around him. You avoided taking his arm, scared he’d feel uncomfortable with the contact before he straightened his back and reluctantly pulled your elbow through his. 

“Just nervous, you look-“ He coughed, “Nice.” 

A smile slipped from you as you thanked him quietly, the two of you heading out the large foyer doors and towards a black limousine.

The ride was mostly silent other than the quiet music playing from the radio. And despite the large amount of room in the back, the two of you stayed conjoined at the hips. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re both nervous, maybe it’s the job.

Maybe it’s because you’re both going into a place you’d never purposefully enter. 

“You smell good.” You broke the silence, your knee tapping his. He brought his attention from the window to your face, now noticing the small amount of makeup that accentuated your already beautiful features.

“Thanks. You too.” 

Suddenly, Morgan’s playful voice cut through the weirdly comfortable silence, through to both of your earpieces. “Alright you two. Now, you both know you’ll have to be all lovey-dovey, no acting needed, but don’t over do it. We’re not trying to make contact with Webley, just to get close enough to watch him. If you lose sight of him, hit the dance floor, he and his wife enjoy moving around.” Spencer’s eyes don’t leave your face as you stare at the black floor in concentration. His hands start getting a bit sweaty and he has to clear his throat to coax himself into listening to Morgan. 

“And if he heads for the kitchen, let us know, we’ve got an officer that’s acting as a bodyguard at the back door that can tell us when he’s left.”

Spencer thanks him over the ear piece, holding down a small microphone under his cufflinks. Your hands fiddled with each other, threatening to chip off the nail polish Emily so carefully painted. Spencer felt his heart pump in his chest, but ignored it and took a small mint tin from the inside of his jacket, holding a small white pellet out to you. “Y/n,” he caught your attention and smiled at you sweetly, easing your nerves almost immediately. You took the mint from his palm, your fingertips tracing the lines on his palm softly before you popped it into your mouth. You didn’t have to ask how he knew you needed that, you had grown comfortable with knowing Spencer knew more about you than anyone else in the team. 

The venue was a mansion mixed with a theatre. There were expansive columns lining the outside, countless balconies looking out onto the cityscape, and gardens paired with ponds that were home to some unexpectedly calm swans. You and Spencer both stood there for a few seconds, taking in the architecture, as well as the amount of people entering and exiting the main doors. For a second, you felt giddy and childish. You weaved your arm under his and he let his other hand land over yours to squeeze it gently - he must feel just out of place but weirdly excited as you are. 

Don’t lose sight of the real priority here, Y/n. 

But it’s hard to do that when you’re entering the conjuring of your childhood dreams. 

When you start walking up the large stairs, your heels click and Spencer tightens his arm slightly, your stepping becoming a little uneven. These damn heels. 

“You okay?” He asked, one eyebrow raised slightly. His hair was combed back, his long locks more tamed than usual, but one curly strand just escaped and covered the left side of his forehead. It looked effortless, handsome.

“Um- Yeah, sorry. I’m not used to shoes like this.” You laughed like it's funny and Spencer continued to basically lift you up the stairs with no complaining.

When you stepped foot into the main foyer of the building, there were multiple chandeliers that swayed safely in the bustling movement of the quartz floor. There were multiple vases of red and white flowers, almost matching your dress, and multiple suited guards at every entrance and staircase. They smile at guests, and offer them menus and directions, and smartly conceal their weapons in case of intruders. Intruders being you and Spencer.

When Spencer leads you up to them, his hands finally still and confident, the guards smile at you both - offering you an extra look over that has Spencer angling himself to cover you. 

“Names?” One of them asked, pulling out a checklist from behind his back (you almost thought they were pulling out their small guns - you really were not confident in how to act… well… confident.) 

“Mr and Mrs Conner.” 

“First names?” 

First names? You weren’t given first names. Garcia had made sure that nobody else on the guestlist was by the last name of Conner. You could practically see the cogs churning in Spencer’s head - creativity wasn’t really his strong point. 

“Did you just ask for our first names?” You scoff, your voice becoming a bit whinier than usual, “You obviously live under a rock, there are no other Coopers.” 

The guard widened his eyes, scanning the list again and stuttering, “I’m sorry ma’am. You’re obviously- Have a good night.” The guard lifted an arm as an invitation inside, and you gave him a glare. Spencer smiled once you were both out of sight and squeezed your hand with his own. But there are no words, as you’re too taken aback by the sheer size and beauty of the room, if you could even call it that, to focus on the contact. Even larger chandeliers, expansive marble floors and painted ceilings with naked bodies. The warm lighting nearly convinced you that this was just some rich party that people get drunk at and talk about nonsense, but Hotch suddenly talking in your earpieces brought you out of the spell that the pure aesthetics had lured you with. “In the back left of the dance floor, you’ll see Webley dancing with his wife, talking to a pair of aristocrats. Try to get closer, don’t be obvious.”

You released a breath and Spencer adjusted his arms to intertwine his fingers with yours, causing you to meet his gaze in surprise. “We’re in love, remember?” His eyes creased with a smile, his thumb caressing the back of your hand in comforting patterns you couldn’t decipher. Oh, you couldn’t forget that. “Right,” you respond, straightening your back and walking with him towards the dance floor. 

His hands carefully rested on your waist, his fingers gripping slightly against the silky fabric of your dress. The contact made your skin burn, a permanent pink painting your cheeks and increasing whenever you made eye contact with the tall and undeniably good looking man you were dancing with. Spencer didn’t look anywhere other than you and the back left of the dance floor. You had almost grown bored of the nerves in your heart before you noticed something you didn’t see before. 

“Hey, your tie matches my dress.” You said softly, barely audible over the music that echoed around the hall. Spencer glanced down at his tie (thankfully still properly tied) and then at your dress. That was a mistake, because now his breathing is deeper and he can’t take his eyes off of you. 

Spencer nodded and sent you a small smile, “Morgan made sure of it.” 

“Didn’t that spoil it for you?” You asked, finally meeting his gaze. It looked deep, it looked… heavy. 

His swirling brown eyes shot electricity at you when he replied, “Why would it be spoiled?” 

You lowered your head away as you smiled sheepishly, “This is probably the nicest I’ve ever been in front of you. Probably wasn’t as special as I wanted it to be.” 

“You wanted it to be special?” You felt his fingers twitch on your waist as your own fingers twiddled with each other behind his neck. You lifted your face and found him clearing his throat, “I mean, it was still special. Although, I disagree with it being the nicest you’ve ever look.” 

You laughed, and it caused Spencer to crack a smile. 

“I show up to work bare-faced, in second-hand pants and sweaters two times my size. I feel like this is pretty good.” 

“You always look good.” 

You almost stopped your soft swaying with him in shock, and Spencer’s cheek reddened as if he was also shocked he said it. Spencer cleared his throat again, and bit the inside of his lip. 

The others couldn’t hear them right now. The music was soft, people chattered and to be honest, the whole mission had been erased from his mind. Spencer took a long, deep breath.

“I think you look beautiful right now, of course. But you’re still beautiful when you’re dressed like how you like to. I know what it feels like to not want to bring attention to yourself, and how sometimes your clothes can hide you. But…” Spencer stopped your movements with his hands lowering to your hips, he had been instinctively pulling you closer throughout the dance. “There’s nothing you could do, or wear, that could possibly take my attention off of you.” 

You felt your world stand still, although the blur of people didn’t seize, and fluttered your eyelashes at him unsure of how to respond. It was the most he’s spoken to you in one time - excluding random facts and the babbling you accept everyday.

“Spencer…” 

The tall man raised his hands to your waist again, the motion leaving waves of nerves to tumble over you, before he cleared his throat and started darting his eyes from yours to someone’s in the background. 

“Y/n. I think I saw Webley.” His grip only slightly tightened on your silk dress, his fingers curling slightly to move you across the dance floor slowly. You were definitely the more uncoordinated of you two. 

He moved skilfully across the dance floor, avoiding bodies and feet like it was rehearsed. 

“Not too close.” You muttered, Spencer’s attention flickering to you for only a second to nod in agreement. You need to watch him, not make contact with him. 

You grimace slightly, your ankle wobbling at an awkward angle for a second before you recover and-

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

You meet his eyes again, his own already burning a hole through you and your heels. 

“I’m fine, again it’s just the heels.” 

“They seem to be causing you a lot of harm,” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and cleared his throat. Maybe he can distract you. “Did you know that heeled shoes were originally designed for Medieval Soldiers? They were made to make rising horses easier, putting a heel in the stirrups instead of your armoured shoe. And in the 16th century they weren’t supposed to be… to be seen…” He rambled and stopped abruptly.

He didn’t stop because you told him to, or you looked annoyed, or you lost interest. He stopped because you looked… too good to say anything. It made him nervous like a school boy seeing his crush in her prom dress - although he never got to experience that. It felt pretty close.

You tilted your head, a piece of straightened, silky hair falling over your shoulder. Spencer gulped, and before he could stop himself, he lifted a hand and twirled the piece in his pointer finger. 

It was like an optical illusion, something you know can’t be real, but intrigued you anyways. That’s what you felt, because whatever was happening right now could not be real. 

Spencer Reid looked entranced, hypnotised without knowing. And you looked red. 

“Th-they weren’t supposed to be seen?” 

Spencer snapped out of his trance but didn’t continue, only pulling you forward by the waist and moving that strand behind your ear. Your heart pumped, your ears matching the colour of your dress. 

He didn’t try to kiss you, even if he wanted to so badly. Instead, he lowered his lips to the shell of your ear and whispered, “Let’s go. Webley opened the kitchen door.” 

And your heart dropped.

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna

[thewatcher727]

Writing Tip - Portraying Characters Out Of Character

More writing tips

One of the most common criticisms in writing is when an established character is portrayed in a way that seems inconsistent with their usual traits or undergoes a sudden change in personality. The question is, is it wrong to want to write an established character in a different way?

My answer is that it’s fine if there is a plausible reason for it. For example, if John, who was previously a badass military guy, suddenly becomes a soft, joking character in a sequel, it’s going to make people wonder why his personality did a 180. The key to making a different portrayal plausible is through story and context. To explain this, I will use the video game Batman: Arkham Origins as an example.

We were first introduced to Arkham Batman in Batman: Arkham Asylum, which takes place during Bruce Wayne’s 11th year as Batman. In that game, Batman is portrayed as an experienced, highly skilled vigilante who is in complete control of his emotions. He never acts out when a situation goes wrong; instead, he calculates and plans his next move. Even though we see a few instances where he still carries the trauma of his childhood, his willpower is shown to be incredible. There are even rare moments when he makes jokes with Oracle. All in all, you get the sense this is a guy who knows what he’s doing.

Now let’s cut to Batman: Arkham Origins. This game is a prequel that takes place during Bruce’s second year as Batman. In this game, his personality is quite different, out of character so to speak. He is younger, angrier, and inexperienced. The game does an excellent job portraying how flawed Batman is through the small details. His fighting style is more raw and less polished compared to his later years. His suit looks bulkier and more thrown together rather than a single, cohesive design. We see him make mistakes when dealing with criminals. For example, in one cutscene, Batman is interrogating a guy named Loose Lips. As he holds Loose Lips up by the throat with one hand, he adjusts his footing and then chokes Loose Lips too hard, knocking him out. Batman acknowledges this by muttering, “Damn.” He is also very arrogant, underestimating the assassins that are out to get him and frequently telling Alfred he doesn’t need allies, determined to be a one-man army.

So, why do I consider this different portrayal good? The reason is that it fits the story they are trying to tell. Given the significant time gap between Origins and Asylum, it stands to reason that Batman would undergo some personality changes. The game provides an opportunity to show how Batman evolved from a young, reckless individual to the seasoned warrior we know later.

One of the best scenes is when, after nearly losing Alfred to Bane, Batman begins to doubt himself and considers giving up. Alfred, who finally understands why Bruce does what he does as Batman, encourages him to continue and let allies help him. Near the end, we see him working with James Gordon, hinting at how their relationship began to improve by the time of Asylum. We also see Batman working with Barbara to destroy Penguin’s weapons. This not only adds depth to Batman’s character, showing his capacity for growth and change, but it also sets up his future collaborations with characters like Oracle, Robin, and Nightwing. This development makes his later, more balanced and cooperative approach in Asylum and subsequent games feel earned and believable.

All in all, portraying a character out of character can be compelling if it aligns with the story and provides a logical progression. Batman’s arc in Arkham Origins shows he was flawed and needed to accept that he was not alone in his mission. Proper context and development are crucial in making these changes believable.

So, if you’re considering writing someone in a different way, keep this in mind and you’ll be good to go!

[alnair-jpg]

Olympics AU Info dump!

First, I am blown away by how much love the series is getting, thank you all so much! I do really enjoy all the comments and reactions in the tags. Know that they all delight me and the only reason I don’t reply to everything is because there are so many! But I read them all 💕

General questions:

Can you draw the designs or concepts? Write fanfic in this AU?

Yes of course! I’d love for you to tag me if you post them so I can see

Do they all know each other?

At first, I would say no- with the exception of Nico and Will (they’re developing a whole backstory in my head that I cannot and will not stop.). But they all meet in the Olympic Village after the opening ceremonies and quickly become friends. They all try their best to attend each other’s events. (Someone please tell me how Percabeth becomes a thing. Please. 🙏 )

Why didn’t Percy win gold?

Percy was an Olympic medalist in swimming before moving to diving. After competing in several swimming events and feeling like they were all just small variations of the same thing, he wanted more of a challenge. He chose diving to stay rooted in to the water, but to add a new dimension to his bodily awareness and control.

What’s Annabeth and Luke’s rivalry?

They most definitely trained together, and it was Luke’s skill that motivated Annabeth to aim for the Olympics. But, she wanted to compete for her home country, Greece, which Luke thought was just a shortcut since there was a clearer path to an Olympic team in a smaller country. Annabeth is constantly trying to prove to him that she would have made it to the top of the sport either way.

Also, apologies to the IRL fencers out there for the inconsistency. I know fencing is a gendered sport, and Annabeth’s gear/style are inconsistent, please forgive the oversight ☺️🫶

Volleyball?

The whole Hunters of Artemis are a volleyball team (that apparently has no country 😅). Thalia ends up the captain. When Reyna moves on from tennis they welcome her with open arms.

Rejected sports

Will as a runner. Canonically, he’s super fast, but just having him as a sprinter didn’t fit with his personality.

Will as a pole vaulter. Specifically the guy that lost because he was ‘blessed a little too much’ and knocked down the bar. I will not explain further.

Will as a gymnast. He was this || close to being a gymnast essentially modeled after Steven Nedoroscik, I had the sketch and everything. (I shared it here!) But when an anyonomous ask clued me into the sick medical team uniforms it all fell into place from there. (Thank you no-longer-anon @helyeahmangocheese !)

Percy in anything equestrian related. I see him not having the patience for all the formality of it all, but he definitely crashes Hazel’s shows and chats up all the competition (the horses.)

Annabeth on a sailing team. Also, related to that, Reyna on a sailing team. It was a fun idea, especially for Reyna and her history with pirates but ultimately it was really hard to capture in a few illustrations.

Nico in several winter sports. For consistency mostly. He could fit for a lot of winter sports - ice skating and snowboarding are my personal favorites.

Leo as a shooter. He would most definitely build his own gear and make tweaks to his weapon. Which would get him immediately disqualified.

Jason in discus. Jason as a basketball player. Golf is just… fitting. 😂

Other Characters I’ve been thinking about

(that may have art in the works… and may not actually be athletes!)

Clarisse

Meg

Grover

Rachel

Lester / Apollo

Mr. D

Chiron

[rrxnjun]

where do broken hearts go? [lmk]

you know what they say about past lovers that can remain just as friends - either they're still in love with each other, or they never were in the first place.

pairing: mark lee x fem! reader

genre: exes to lovers. angst, fluff.

wc: 12k (11.926)

warnings: mention of sex, weed and alcohol, heartbreak, swearing, park jihoon of treasure is one sassy bitch and also accidentally somehow the main character of this fanfic plz dont @ me, inconsistent writing style bc i took 3 months and 3 depressive episodes to finish this fic

playlist: where do broken hearts go - one direction / too good to say goodbye - bruno mars / everytime - ariana grande / closer - waterparks / tornado warnings - sabrina carpenter / survive the night - the boyz

a/n: hey do some of you still remember me..... AHAHA tell a friend to tell a friend rrxnjun is BACK! this fic isn't the ideal vision i had in my mind but we are working on not being so hard on ourselves with our writing so! here we are. i still kind of like it :,)

When you walk up to your best friend’s apartment one day with a tub of ice cream under your arm and the biggest pout on your face, Park Jihoon makes a complete list of things you should do to get over your failed relationship with Mark Lee. And while you think your dear friend has some psychopathic tendencies sometimes, you’d say the list is actually pretty reasonable of him. 

There’s something about the five simple steps that makes you wonder if it’s really as easy as Jihoon makes it sound. And while you doubt it– because the pinging pain in your heart makes it seem like the heartbreak is truly going to kill you in a few minutes if you don’t do something about it– you give it a try, because come on… you’d do anything to not feel like this ever again.

Step one – cry it out.

“He was a cunt anyway,” Jihoon mutters as he steps into the living room with two spoons in his hands, throwing one of them to you– while almost managing to hit you in the middle of your forehead in the process, adding a concussion to the mix of problems you have going on right now– and you find yourself furrowing your brows at his hateful comment.

“Why’d you say that?”

“Well, as your best friend, I’m supposed to be on your side, no?” he says as he takes a seat on the sofa next to you, watching as you wrap one of the thick blankets you got for the male around your figure– you bought it mainly for yourself, because his apartment is cold as a freezer and you knew he wouldn’t buy one for you to use in the first place– and shrugs. “Besides, he broke your heart, and any male who does that is a cunt in my eyes.”

“I broke up with him,” you mourn, “so I broke my own heart,” you snicker, despair fully filling you up from the inside– fitting everywhere into your lungs and choking you up from how bad you truly feel. Now, this isn’t your first breakup– you’ve had your fair share of boyfriends in high school (in your baddie era, as Jihoon called it), but Choi Yeonjun from Maths class and Jung Woonyoung, the guy you dated for a total of 2 months over the summer break before he moved away, weren’t exactly boys you found yourself falling in love with. Sure, you liked them, you kissed them and went on dates with them– hell, you even hooked up with Yeonjun once before you realized the relationship truly wasn’t for you– but no one managed to cave into your heart just as much as Mark Lee, your first college boyfriend did.

“But you sure had a reason for it, come on!” Jihoon huffs, taking the tub of ice cream from your hands and opening it for you, since you’ve gotten quite weak from the lack of sleep and nutritions ever since the break up, hands clammy and not cooperating. “You don’t just break up with someone to break your own heart. He did that, that’s why you said goodbye to him,” he says before sitting the enormous tub of ice cream between your two bodies, nudging you to dig into the frozen delicacy.

“Yeah, but–”

“No buts, young lady. We are here to make you forget you ever even dated Mark Lee, so open up, eat the ice cream and focus your attention on Titanic so you can finally cry it out,” he says, and by the tone of his voice, you’d think he’s angry with you. Jihoon has this aura around him that makes you think he’s always at least a little annoyed at everything– but he told you to not mind it and that it’s just his sassy bitch attitude. 

He does have a point, though. You broke up with Mark because he broke your heart first– there was no other reason for it. If it was something minor, something small, you were sure you could work on it. You have, numerous of times before, brought up something and had a mature conversation about it– something you always so admired about Mark, being so cautious and understanding when navigating problems in the relationship– but when you bring up the same thing over and over, and it never gets fixed despite him telling you he’ll try harder next time, you think you’re allowed to feel a little heartbroken at his nonexistent efforts. And that’s exactly why you decided to quit the relationship– after a while, you felt like you were putting in more effort than he was, effectively making you feel like he’s not even that interested in dating you in the first place.

First, he just told you he was forgetful. He forgot he promised to pick you up from class one day– and you said that it’s okay, he is busy, after all– and it was the first time it happened, so you didn’t really mind that much, truly. Then, he forgot about the date you scheduled– but it was fine, because you didn’t have reservations anyway, you could change the day to any other day of the week, after all. He kept forgetting the stuff you told him in between the conversations you shared– and it was small things, you understand, but sometimes, you wondered if he was ever really listening to you at all. 

Forgetful soon turns not interested in your eyes, and when he doesn’t call you in the evening like he promised he would, when he doesn’t show up to the party you invited him to, because he forgot it was that day, you’re one step closer to calling it quits, because each and every one of these situations sends a sharp pain into your stomach. The last straw was just last week, though– and realistically, it was an important day, as much that you thought the day is somehow gonna fix everything, but the truth is somewhere completely else as Mark Lee forgets about your one year anniversary and never shows up at your doorstep for the dinner you prepared for the two of you like he promised he would. 

And it doesn’t click in him two days after either– you don’t even get a text. He got so forgetful over time that he forgot about you completely, and that’s when you took an uber to his place and broke up with him for good.

And even though the breakup was the most painful thing you’ve ever felt yourself go through, Jihoon is right– you’re not the one that broke your own heart. Mark Lee did that for you many times before, and this was just the breaking point.

“Fucking hell, you bought cookies and cream again?” Jihoon huffs when he takes another spoonful of the ice cream into his mouth, eyebrows furrowing at the sweet taste. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you wipe your left cheek as you hum, immune to his nagging by now.

“You know I hate cookies and cream!”

“You know, Hoon, I bought this for myself. When you’re the one that’s heartbroken, we’ll share your favorite ice cream flavor instead,” you mumble, munching on the coldness on your tongue, sniffling a little when your eyes avert to the TV screen.

And after that, the teasing from your best friend’s side stops. Maybe it’s just because he hates to see you cry– and he rarely gets the chance, if you’re being honest, since you’re pretty good at handling your emotions– but you secretly know that it’s because when he looks back at the TV screen in front of the two of you, the sad part of the movie hasn’t even started yet and the tears are not the result of the movie, but of your own thoughts instead.

Step two – give him back all of his stuff and the stuff he’s given you that reminds you of him. Demand that he does the same.

Now, step two was a thing most couples do when they break up. Realistically, it makes sense– you wouldn’t want stuff that’s not yours just laying around, and also, it’s just bound to remind you of the person you lost. Naturally, you’d want to return it.

“Why does he have to return my things as well?” you mutter under your breath as Jihoon helps you fold all Mark’s hoodies into a cardboard box, alongside with wrapping the little things your ex boyfriend made out of ceramic for you in tissue paper like you asked him to– even though he complained and said that it shouldn’t matter to you if they break, because you are the heartbroken one– but you held those little things too close to your heart to let them get damaged in the first place.

“Because that’s how it works,” Jihoon hums, watching as you throw another one of Mark’s shirts onto the top of his head, shielding his vision. “What, you don’t want your stuff back?”

“I mean…” you mumble, deeply considering of the fact that the thought of getting your stuff back didn’t even cross your mind until now, before you realize your favorite pair of socks is thrown somewhere in Mark’s drawers– the blue ones with peaches on them– and you suddenly have the revelation that while you don’t necessarily need the stuff back, you’d love to wear those socks again. “I guess…” you note as you walk over to Jihoon and take a glance into the full cardboard box, looking over the stuff and chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“It’s like witchcraft, y’know,” Jihoon points out, looking at you with fierce eyes mirroring the stupid idea that just flashed through his brain, “if you don’t exchange the things, a piece of you is still kept at his apartment and you won’t be able to move on.”

And again, Park Jihoon does have psychopathic tendencies, but he may be onto something here. So you listen to him as you nod along and close the cardboard box, ready to drive over to Mark Lee’s apartment and drop off the things you’ve collected from him for the past year. The box includes all of the clothes messily scattered across your drawers and your closet, the picture frame of you two together that you always had on your night stand, the ceramic bowls and a little tiger sculpture he made for you when he took a pottery class with his friend Renjun, and the lost guitar pics you found under your bed and at the very top of your bookshelf from when he used to bring his guitar along and play you songs on rainy afternoons. The only things of Mark’s that you kept were the love letter he gave you for your birthday and the USB with his cover of Justin Bieber’s Off my face on it that he shyly gifted to you on one of your dates; but you would never tell Jihoon that in fear of him getting rid of those most precious memories for you.

It’s good to let go, but you don’t think you’re wrong for wanting to keep something to remind you of the good times. The times you still felt loved by Mark.

“Off we go,” you say, standing up and bringing the box towards your front door, your best friend at your feet. He promised to drive you to Mark’s place– you think he’s worried about you meeting your ex-boyfriend face to face for the first time since the break up, but he said it’s because you’re too broke to Uber all the time, efficiently throwing all the considerate thoughts you were accrediting him out the window– and after a few minutes of the drive, you find yourself standing on the doorstep of Mark Lee's apartment.

Taking a deep breath in and out, almost chickening out with the flood of thoughts and excuses you could say to Jihoon when you come back to his car with the box still in your hands– sayings like “he wasn’t home” or “he didn’t want those back”, the latter stupider than the first– you decide to face your problems head-on and finally knock on the mahogany door, waiting for Mark to answer. And he does– of course he does, because he’s always home, and as his ex-girlfriend of one year, you're painfully aware of the fact– but when that happens, you feel your heart falling all the way down to your stomach, crushing you and suddenly making it hard for you to breathe. 

“Um… hi,” he greets you, voice a little groggy, as if he hasn’t spoken in a while– and when you meet his eyes, the deep chocolate orbs you always found yourself admiring and writing silent odes to in your head, you quickly glance away in fear of staring into them for too long and making decisions you wouldn’t like to make.

“Hi,” you awkwardly greet back, clearing your throat and moving a little in your place, shifting the weight from one foot to the other. You're surprised you're able to keep up with the conversation, thoughts running in your brain faster than you can comprehend them, heartbeat ringing in your ears from the unexpected anxiety. Maybe Jihoon was right and you should've taken a shot before coming here– at least you'd have more courage and social skills clearly needed for this kind of interaction. “I… brought you back your things,” you say, finally looking up at the male and chewing on your lips, letting out an awkward, tense laugh when he stares at you with an empty look, “figured you’d want them back,” you add, watching as the male opens his mouth and closes it in what seems to be shock before he presses his lips tightly together and nods at you.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he watches you clumsily hold up the cardboard box to him, ready to leave his stuff there with him and escape as fast as you can, not really minding how you'll get back to Jihoon's car– if jumping down the window of the entrance hall is the fastest option, you're ready to get to it. The truth is, everything is starting to get a little too hard to bear– his familiar scent filling your nose, the hoodie he wore to your first date enveloping his figure, his messy hair reminding you of the many times you brushed your fingers through it in attempts to smooth it down. It’s only been two weeks since you last saw him, but it was starting to feel as if you forgot about him already and were now relearning all the things you once fell in love with again, looking at him in the same light, yet noticing him and all the small details a little bit differently. “Thanks, I… I actually, uh… I have your stuff here too, so if you want it back I’ll– I can just–”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, almost a little too eagerly, “that would be… cool,” you say, trying hard to ignore the fact that he had your stuff packed too, intending to give it to you, and the crashing reality that comes with it, telling you he was prepared to do this before you were and how it’s making you feel kind of shitty.

Mark moves further into the apartment, the sound of him dropping the box to the floor filling your ears before he’s back at the door in no time, a similar cardboard box in his hands that he offers to you with a tense smile on his face. “Wanted to bring it around so I had an excuse to see you, but you, uh… beat me to it, I guess…” 

Looking at him as you take the box out of his hands, gaze as if to tell him not to say such words to you when you’re still so fragile to his effect, you only nod and mutter out a simple “Thanks,” before you turn on your heel and intend to take the stairs back down.

“I’ll… see you around, then?” Mark calls after you as you take the first step out– something about it making you feel like it’s the first step out of his life, in a way– and you only nod, because one, you truly don’t know how else to reply to this question, and two, you really, really don’t know if you’ll ever see him again, but you can't bring yourself to say it to his face. Somehow, it would feel like torture to admit it– and you're not prepared for that reality just yet.

Rushing outside and getting into Jihoon's car, you almost feel like you’re on the verge of breaking, and when the male asks you how it went as he’s reversing out of the parking lot, you only bid him a one-word reply before you look through the box on your way home, too impatient to stay back from the memories.

And Jihoon didn’t really think this one through, because the fact that you gave Mark back the things that reminded you of him meant that he did the same, and now all the things you brought along to Mark’s apartment were in the cardboard box, all stained with countless memories and feelings attached to each and every single thing. The artwork you made for him, the little heart-shaped keychain you gave him for his birthday, the plant you gave him that was now long dead and dried out– those were once your stuff, but all in this world with the intention of love being sent out through them to your now ex-lover, and the fact that they’re in your possession again instead of his is not making letting go of Mark any easier. 

And maybe Mark was right and he truly was forgetful, because as you rummage through the contains of the box, while you find out your favorite blue socks are nowhere to be seen, surely still buried somewhere in the drawers of his closet, obliterated out of his memory, there’s a gray hoodie sitting at the bottom and it’s surely not yours– it’s his and it was always your favorite, and you always used to wear it at his place when you got cold or when you just really wanted to smell his cologne, and you suddenly don't know if it's presence in the box slipped his mind or if he truly left it there on purpose. 

Couldn’t he forget about that too?

Step three – block his number.

The third step comes into place after you accidentally slip out to Jihoon about the phone call you get on a Friday night– more like two hours into Saturday already– and now, most of all, you must admit that your best friend might be right about his advice.

Your phone starts ringing at 2:11 AM, and while you weren’t sleeping– you’ve been having some trouble with dozing off without being overbeared with thoughts lately– the name flashing on your screen shocks you for more reasons than one. 

Mark Lee calls you, three weeks after your breakup, in the middle of the night. You haven’t spoken since the time he gave you back your stuff, and even though you’ve done quite a bit of stalking on his social media, you have no news of him or his whereabouts. Naturally, a call from him in the middle of the night startles you and shakes you to the core. He has no reason to call you, so your brain does the math and concludes there must be an emergency– and god knows that even after being hurt by him, you could never ignore him and leave him hanging in a state of need.

So you pick up– with shaky hands and a raging heartbeat, expecting the worst. Listening to the other side of the line, you take a deep breath in and out, bracing yourself for the impact of the words you’re going to hear. The voice on the other side is laced with haziness and his tone is almost a little tired– worn out, even– when he finally greets you from wherever he is.

“Hi,” Mark says, and for a second, your heartbeat steadies itself and the world stops spinning– he sounds okay, and for a moment, you’re grateful to hear his voice.

Humming, as if to collect your thoughts, you clear your throat before you offer him an answer. “Hello,” you greet, “what’s- what’s up?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice,” he says, almost a little abruptly to your question. He doesn't overthink his answer and he doesn't give himself time to think if it's a good idea or not– he just blurts it out and now it's your problem to deal with, when it's there, out in the open. Your palms get sweaty and you start to lose feeling in your fingertips, making you take a few seconds to yourself to process the situation before you decide to finally answer to the strange sentence. 

“It’s late, Mark,” you mumble, and you involuntarily wonder if the sentence doesn’t have double meaning– it's too late for anyone to call at this hour, and at the same time, it’s been weeks since your ex boyfriend lost the privilege of listening to your voice when he can’t sleep in the middle of the night whenever he feels like it– and it’s now too late to do anything about it or make it any easier to deal with.

“Shit, sorry,” he chuckles to himself, and you suddenly recognise the laziness in his voice to be the effect of his and his best friend Hyuck’s Friday endeavors; the sweet coating of his voice being the effect of none other than the momentary bliss that comes with the relaxation of his body and mind when he's high. “Didn’t realize,” he concludes, making you shake your head at him in disbelief– not really mattering that he can’t see you in the act.

“‘s okay,” you mumble– and in your perfect reality, you hang up the phone now. In your perfect reality, you connect it to your charger and close your eyes, calling it a night. You fall asleep with no thoughts rummaging through your brain and wake up in the morning to a new sunny day, ready to take on the responsibilities of what’s to come, having productive days ended with smiles and a hot dinner you make for yourself just because you feel like it. In your perfect reality, you protect your own heart. This is not your perfect reality, though– and that’s why you stay on the line, listening to Mark ramble on the other side of the phone, intoxicated and slightly out of it. You wonder if he’ll remember calling you when he wakes up tomorrow. You wonder if he’ll regret it, or if he’ll just shrug his shoulders at the fact and go on with his day, not really paying you much thought when he’s sober.

“I was with Hyuck just now,” he says, and you hear the rustling of his sheets on the other side of the line, making you wonder if he’s washed up and ready for bed, “and– and I remembered how we all used to hang out together, y’know… you with us all– you always clicked with my friends and it was so cool and stuff… and I realized, right, they’re not as funny when you’re not around… but anyways… Jeno’s girlfriend asked about you, ‘cause she didn’t know…and telling her felt so silly, ‘cause they all kept looking at me and I knew they were pitying me, but it was my fault in the first place–”

“Mark–” 

“No, it’s true. And it’s cool, I don’t– I don’t blame you, or anything. I just… I dunno, I guess it got me wondering…”

The line goes silent on the other side, and you settle into your own bed, giving him time to continue. When he doesn’t say anything for a long time, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“You still there?”

“Yeah. How was your day?” he asks, tone of voice casual as ever, as if he’s forgotten about all the words he’s told you up until now–  as if it’s not 2 AM and both of your hearts aren’t breaking at the sound of each other’s voice on the other side of the line.

“It… it was okay, I guess,” you say nonetheless, too hopeless to find a way to end the conversation before he does. 

“That’s good to hear,” he says, sighing, “that’s… awesome. You still taking those yoga classes on Mondays?” he asks, and you snicker to yourself– because what kind of question even is that? Who asks that on a late night call, when there are more important things you two need to talk about?

“Yeah,” you lie, still. You haven’t been since the breakup.

“That’s great. Wouldn’t want you to… y’know,” he laughs to himself, “be too sad over this… ‘t was for the better, after all.”

You hear yourself hum– the noise way more stable than your actual words ever could be– and you find yourself feeling silly in the conversation, lying to your ex boyfriend through your teeth; because at the end of the day, you don’t want him to worry about you– because it seems to be the case that he is. And it’s stupid, because he hurt you and you shouldn’t care, maybe you should’ve even show him that you’re heartbroken and that he is the reason behind your pain and the way your life is falling apart, bit by bit, but you don’t find it in you to be so cold and heartless. At the end of the day, you still care about Mark and there’s nothing you could do about it. Turns out that breaking up with him doesn’t magically make the feelings go away– and you knew that, but now you have proof.

“What were you saying before, by the way? You… trailed off at the end,” you say, reminding him of his previous words.

“Oh, that,” he snickers into the microphone again, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he twists and turns in the sheets, “don’t worry about it. It was selfish of me.”

It was selfish of him to call in the first place. But you won’t tell him that.

“What was it?”

“It’s just… I was wondering if I lost you forever, y’know… if there was a chance we could ever…” he trails off again, but this time, you don’t bug him to complete it. You’re not stupid– you know the implication of his words. You’ve known him for a long time, after all– maybe you should’ve predicted this when you picked up the call.

“I mean…” you hum, “you didn’t lose me completely, if that’s– if that’s what’s keeping you up at night. We’re still friends, aren’t we?” you say, and in the corner of your brain, you can’t even believe the words yourself– but if it was selfish of him to call, you think it’s okay for you to selfishly fill both of you with empty promises, just for the sake of not breaking your heart even further.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “that’s– …I’m glad.”

The line’s silent after that, and you wonder if you two have used up the list of words to say to each other this time, if there’s truly no other answer at the end of this conversation. When the situation gets too much for you to bear, the heaviness finally settling on your shoulders and your chest, you finally find the courage to sniffle out a quiet goodbye.

“Good night, Mark.”

“G’night,” he drags out, mind still cloudy. “Love you,” spills out from his tongue, like a bad habit.

He ends the call before you get to say it back. Maybe that’s for the better.

And the truth is, you should’ve really listened to Park Jihoon and blocked Mark’s number after this encounter. But you didn’t– you’re too weak for Mark’s sweet words, finding yourself still hanging on to his saccharine voice and the muffled ramble he has reserved for you only every time he gets high and loses all self-control before calling you on Friday nights selfishly demanding your attention, somehow falling for him like a teenager over and over again despite promising yourself you're gonna move on for real now.

Step four – date someone new.

“So…” Jihoon starts one day, eyes glued to your skull like laser beams, the tone of his voice so incomprehensible you think he’s going to scold you for the actions of your previous days– even though you haven't told him about the midnight calls with Mark and so if he's not going through your phone, he has no way of knowing. Tense and nervous, still, knowing that the impact of his words could either heal you or cut you open like a knife– damn him for always being so brutally honest, no matter how soft his heart is for you– you smile at him with tight lips, crossing your arms on your chest in defense.

“So…?” 

A nervous laugh almost escapes your throat. If Jihoon wasn’t suspicious of you before, he surely is now– or he just finds you strange by the way he furrows his brows at you and scans you up and down, taking a second for himself before he sighs and seemingly decides to drop the weird way you’re acting right now, shaking his head and focusing on the task at hand.

“I was thinking… my friend asked about you,” he says, nonchalantly looking down onto his hands and taking the dirt out from behind his nails, as if it’s not a big deal and he doesn’t even care that much. “Choi Hyunsuk from Biology, you know him– shabby haircut, kinda short, failed the class so he has to retake it this year…?”

“I think you’re forgetting the fact that the two of us have completely different majors, Hoonie,” you sweetly smile at him with irony, making him roll his eyes with a sigh before he tries again.

“The guy who ripped his pants at Xiao Dejun’s party last year?”

“Oh, that one! You should’ve said that earlier, of course I remember Choi Hyunsuk from your Biology class,” you nod hurriedly, the gears finally clicking in your brain.

“As if I wasn’t talking about him for the last few minutes–”

“Okay, and what about him?” you cut him off, already tired of his annoying tangent.

“I said he asked about you.”

“I heard that already,” you nod, looking at him with expecting eyes. “And?”

Jihoon stares at you, unblinking, as if you fell on your head and he’s trying to comprehend if you’re still here with him or if you got a concussion and need to be transferred into a hospital. When the contact of his eyes on your skin gets a bit too uncomfortable– you swear his looks could actually kill someone, if he tried enough– you furrow your brows at him in confusion and shake your head in disbelief.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Park Jihoon?”

“Just tryna see if you’re really that stupid or if you’re just pretending,” he mutters under his nose before he sighs again– his favorite activity whenever you’re around, it seems– and speaks up again, tone of voice reminding you of a kindergartener teacher trying to explain why it gets dark in the evening to a bunch of 4 year olds. “You know, when people ask about you, they are usually interested in you, as in, my friend Hyunsuk didn’t ask because you’re nice, but because you’re hot, if you know what I'm getting onto.”

“Oh,” you get out, eyes wide in concern and a little shaken-up, “well, that’s… nice of him, I guess.”

Jihoon only hums at you before he looks around himself and brings out the bag of chips that he left open by his right side only a few seconds ago, not really speaking more about the topic. It’s either he’s waiting for you to get what he’s hinting at, or he’s just waiting for you to get even more confused and ask him about it in a few seconds again– either way, he’s not the one doing more talking right now, because conversations with you, the most oblivious person he’s ever seen, are never productive if he goes too fast.

Chewing on the chips, his eyes go wide when you finally open your mouth and talk more about the topic at hand– just like he predicted. “Why are you telling me this?”

Your best friend swallows before he places the bag of chips back to its original place and turns his whole body so he’s facing you, speaking up again. “I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, you’d like to hang out with him. Like a date, before you ask– because I know you’re gonna ask– and why? – because, again, I know you’re gonna ask– because I simply think you should try to date again to get your mind off the loser you broke up with two months ago,” he says, blunt and honest, answering all of your unsaid questions at once, and before you know it, he has you snickering and shaking your head in disapproval.

“Absolutely not,” you retort, waving your hands in the air to only further show your disagreement with the proposition, “that would just be a massive catastrophe.”

“Why? Hyunsuk’s nice.”

“I didn’t say he isn’t, it’s just…”

“Just?” he probes you, eyebrows raised and questioning.

“I… don’t know,” you nervously chew on the inside of your cheek, aimlessly shrugging. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Jihoon.”

“Because of Mark?” he asks, and the moment his name escapes your best friend’s mouth, the whole room goes strangely quiet– you feel your heartbeat in your throat, the tips of your fingers start tingling and you swear that if you concentrate hard enough, you could feel a bead of sweat drip down your forehead with the incoming stress and nerves only the mention of your ex boyfriend brings you.

“No, that’s not it–”

“Sure,” he nods, sighing to himself– and there it is again, the judging look you so despise.

“You can’t just expect me to date other people a few weeks after my break up, Jihoon,” you exclaim, “that– that wouldn’t even be fair to your friend. You know I wouldn’t be invested,” you explain, and your friend rolls his eyes in frustration, sighing to himself.

“Oh but I know that! And Hyunsuk does too,” he shakes his head at you, “just thought the company of someone else could take your mind off things.”

“I have you,” you try.

“Yeah, but all we do when we’re together is mope about Mark Lee,” Jihoon snickers, “and don’t get me wrong, I’m more than open to bitch about your ex boyfriend and as your best friend, I don’t mind, but the fact that you’d be hanging out with someone else could take your mind off him, because you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about him with someone else, y’know?”

You shut your eyes closed, a heavy sigh heaving out of your body as you try hard to concentrate and not lose it, and with how Jihoon’s tone gets softer and he’s not as loud with his brutal, yet logical advice, he must feel you getting overwhelmed and accommodates to your needs. “Look, it’s gonna be fun. I promise. Hang out with someone new, feel wanted and hot and pretty again, get some male attention that’s not your ex boyfriend, and you’ll see how it makes you feel. If you hate it, you hate it and you can slap me, I don’t know... If you don’t, you can keep dating around with my friends, and I swear I’ll hook you up only with the nice ones,” he takes your hand into his and waves it around in comfort, making you open your eyes and look at him again.

Seeing the softness and encouragement in your best friend’s eyes, you sigh to yourself. All this time, he’s tried to help you– what if you finally follow his advice? Who knows, it might even help. 

Sighing, you squeeze his palm and hover over him to get the stranded bag of chips he’s guarding on the other side of the sofa. “Fine,” you mutter, “but let your friend know that he’s the one paying, okay?”

“Perfect. I'll text him your number, then.“

And maybe Jihoon was right and after dolling yourself up and dressing up in your favorite dress just so you would feel as comfortable as possible, you don’t feel as bad when his friend Hyunsuk picks you up in his white Volvo and chats with you on the way to the restaurant. He makes good small talk and even gets a giggle out of you, the music in his car is low and you find yourself slowly easing into the situation. You don’t remember when the last time you went out with a guy that wasn’t Mark was, but it’s surprisingly nice. 

And Jihoon was right– you feel pretty. And when Hyunsuk opens the door for you after pulling up to the parking lot of the restaurant, you even feel wanted. You like the attention, just like any other girl would, and the smile you offer to your date seeps of tender shyness as you get out of the comfortable seat of his car. 

The illusion, though, is soon broken as you notice the restaurant he pulled up to. Your smile freezes, your palms get sweaty and you feel your heartbeat rummaging against your ribcage as soon as the idle atmosphere of the restaurant opens up before you. And realistically, you could turn on your heel and get back to the car, tell Hyunsuk that you want to go to another restaurant– but you don’t do it, against your biggest wishes, because you worry that the boy already made a reservation and you don’t want to ruin an evening that’s going well so far.

“Everything alright?” your date checks up on you, seemingly noticing the frown on your face, and when his worried eyes meet yours, it’s sealed– you’d feel too bad for pulling out of the date now. So you only do what you always do best– you put on your best relaxed smile and nod, catching up to him and ensuring him that you’re all okay and you didn’t just talk yourself out of an anxiety attack. 

Because you owe it to him and to Jihoon– both of them worked so hard to make you feel happy and help you to get over your ex boyfriend. It’s not Hyunsuk’s fault that he just managed to pick the restaurant your said ex boyfriend works at part-time. He had no way of knowing, and if you’re lucky enough, Mark wouldn’t be on today. He only works here part-time, it’s not like he’s here every day, and as far as you’re concerned, he only worked like two or three days a week when you dated. It would be a weird coincidence for him to be working the day you go there with your new date– you hope you’re not that unlucky.

Hyunsuk is a gentleman. Opening up doors for you, pulling out the chair for you, letting you talk and not interrupting you. He watches you with fond eyes and you almost try to feel bad for the fact that even if this ended well, the poor boy would just end up being a rebound. He deserves so much more, and you start to worry if this date was a good idea after all. Wasn’t it selfish of you to agree to this? 

“What do you want to get?” he asks as you open up the menu, and you squint at the prices, mentally taking a note to order the cheapest thing just in case he wants to pay for you at the end of the evening. 

“Spaghetti Bolognese,” you blurt out, despite it not being your favorite meal. Hyunsuk just stares at you with squinted eyes, but doesn’t disagree with you. After all, he has no way of knowing that you dislike the taste of the sauce in most restaurants– even though your conscience tells you that Mark knew that and always made sure to remind you about it before ordering for you, worried that you won’t get to eat much that evening– the only thing left to hope is that it tastes good in this particular place. 

“Okay, sure,” he nods and puts the menu down, smiling at you before engaging in a comfortable conversation with you. It feels like you’ve known Hyunsuk forever– his personality oddly reminding you of Jihoon’s caused mainly by the fact that the two have grown up together. Everything flows soundly, but you still find yourself anxiously picking at your cuticles as you cautiously look around the restaurant, fearing the fact that you could catch a glimpse of your ex boyfriend at any second.

And maybe you should be a psychic, because those bad feelings were not there for nothing– when you see a waiter walking out of the back and eyeing your table, ready to get your order, the boy is a few inches taller than your current date, raven hair messy, but still a little styled, dark circles under the man’s eyes, and there he is– your ex boyfriend. Mark Lee halts in his movements, wearing his work uniform, eyes wide, a hint of something that breaks you at least in two mirroring in his orbs before he turns on his heel and disappears in the back again. When he doesn’t come back and his co-worker joins you and Hyunsuk at your table with a warm smile, you stop waiting to see the glimpse of him you selfishly desired to catch despite fearing the interaction the whole evening.

You want to fall through the floor and disappear in the depths of this earth. For some reason, you feel mortified. What would he think? And why do you even care about his feelings? A million different thoughts run through your brain and you worry that you’re being too distant from your current date, but Hyunsuk’s warm eyes reassure you that he doesn’t mind. 

Piercing the food on your table with your eyes, you try to battle the noisy words running around your brain. 

It’s easy to say you’re over someone when you don’t see them. To have them in front of you, meet their gaze and acknowledge their existence and still be able to nod and say that you’ve moved on, is something completely different. 

Were you ever convinced that you were over Mark Lee in the first place, though?

After all of this– the months of following Jihoon’s advice, although making a few mishaps along the way as you continue to pick up Mark’s calls on Friday nights, snoop around his socials and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t, overthinking everything and making you wish the relationship never ended in the first place– it’s time for the last step of it all. The last, most crucial part of this whole moving on process– the most important one, if you may.

Step five – avoid him at all costs.

Sounds easy, right? After the four previous steps, you’d already cried plenty about the lost months with your ex-boyfriend. You’d already given him back all of his stuff, not tying yourself to him with any material memory. You’d already gone on a date with someone new, choosing to distract yourself instead of letting yourself feel the emotions. After all the previous steps, this one’s supposed to be the easiest one. The one you’re supposed to want to do, after all. The break-up wasn’t messy, but it was still painful– it’s only natural for you to not want to see Mark ever again, right?

Wrong.

Because you never listen to the advice you’re given. That just wouldn’t be you, would it?

And so when Mark Lee calls you one day and tells you that he has a free train ticket to the Bukhansan stop, explaining that he was supposed to go hike there with Donghyuck who canceled on him last minute because of an assignment due midnight, you don’t really hesitate much before you shoot him a short text saying that you’re down and get ready for the short hike. 

When you meet your ex boyfriend at the station, his figure slightly slouched up until the moment his eyes meet yours, you feel the quiet tension in the air. You’ve seen each other a few times before this meeting– on a party you went to with Jihoon, at the campus when you went to class one morning, your ex boyfriend walking you towards the Art building, hell, you’ve even met in the grocery store, all accidental and making your heart leap in your chest with tension. This time, though, you’re here completely intentionally, just to hang out with him, and something about the fact makes a dull pain shoot all through your intestines, a sensation so uncomfortable you try to hide with a tight-lipped smile. 

“Ready for the hike?” he asks, adjusting the bag on his back, playing with the straps with clammy fingers. You can’t help but notice how he looks just like a little boy, in his little world, shielded from everything. He seems to have taken a protective stance, and you hate how the air between you shifted from how you two used to be when you were dating. Mark seems scared. Nervous. On top of his feet. Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to this at all.

You’re already here, though. Turning around and leaving wouldn’t really work right now, as you take a step towards the train that’s just arrived, humming to your ex boyfriend in agreement. Taking a seat on the place Mark’s pointed to you on the train ticket, you try to loosen up your muscles and get as comfortable as you can, clearing your mind as you gaze outside of the window.

“How have you been?” he asks, clearing his throat.

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you turn to him as you search for an answer. “Better,” you nod, voice quiet. “You?”

Mark hums, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Good, good,” he lies through his teeth, “I’ve seen you at the restaurant the other day,” he hints, and you battle the sigh that’s begging to cut out of your throat. You don’t know where he’s going with the sentence. It’s not a question– only a proposition, barely even that– and you could ignore it with a nod of your head, you could pay it no mind as you see the bitterness in his gaze and the slightly self-conscious averting of his stare. You don’t know where he’s going with the conversation, but frankly, you don’t know where you are going with your answer either, as you shrug to him in a casual manner and peep under your breath.

“Yeah,” you say, “that was just… Jihoon’s friend from uni, I suppose,” you complete, and the sentence hints at nothing– it doesn’t clear out the confusion, it doesn’t outright say anything that could make Mark believe that it was just a casual hang-out with a friend, but still, you see the boy visibly relax as he nods to you and offers you a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh,” he hums, looking out of the window, past the profile of your face. The change in topic is sudden and sharp, but also welcome as he falls into a casual conversation with you, and suddenly, you’re reminded by the Mark you once knew– the guy you’ve once called not socially awkward, but so social that it’s awkward– as he talks to you about his day and rambles on about the weather. “It’s good that it won’t rain today, I bet the view will be nice.”

Locking your gaze with him for a brief second, you lick your lips and point your eyes towards the ground. It’s good that it won’t rain today, as opposed to last time you two went to the Bukhansan trail. You wonder if he remembers.

Before you have a chance to mention it– and in all reality, you won’t, no matter how bold you could be feeling at the moment– the train comes to a stop at your station and you hop out of the carriage, ready for the hike.

It’s easy to forget how messed up things have gotten between the two of you when you walk alongside with your ex boyfriend, laughing at his silly jokes and gasping at everything he shows to you with a pointed finger, finding yourself admiring the sound of his giggle when he spots a squirrel pass your path somewhere near the top of the hill. The trail is almost empty at this hour, since the two of you have decided to go in the late afternoon, and you find your soul to finally be at peace after so many weeks, you finally feel relaxed in the nature, one with the wind and the gentle sound of birds chirping lullying your running thoughts to a rest. 

You realize that this is just what you needed all this time. You needed to get out and walk for some while, to tune out yourself and to accept the fact that you’re still here, for another day, and something about that is still a blessing. Watching the back of Mark’s head as he walks a step in front of you due to the narrowness of the trail in this area, you smile to yourself. It’s easy to forget just how much you were hurt by him when he heals your soul with such a simple gesture. It’s easy to forget you were hurt when he seemingly tries to put all the broken pieces back together, glue them to where they were in the first place, when things were easier and you both didn’t have so many things to worry about. 

You reach the top just as the sun starts setting over the horizon, and there are only a few people scattered across the peak, sitting on their own picnic blankets and gazing into the distance. The hues of the sky paint the world in a different color, the oranges, pinks and muted purples playing with your heartstrings as you come to a halt and crouch down and feel the presence of another soul mirror your actions only a meter away to your right, his gaze glued to your side. The view is beautiful, but the feeling of being watched isn’t ignorable anymore, and so you turn to your companion and raise your eyebrows at him, wondering if he has something to say.

You don’t know how you’ll be able to come back to your life after this and pretend you still don’t want to spend every passing second with the man on your right. You don’t know how you’re supposed to ignore the ever so growing love for him– even though after being so disappointed with the past, the feelings should be decreasing, not doing the opposite– and frankly, you don’t even want to think of going back to the way it’s been for the past few months. And so you don’t– you allow yourself to indulge the moment, to ignore the pain that’s about to come, just so you could hold another beautiful memory to your heart and enjoy the moment before it hurts you to think of it tomorrow morning. 

“It’s even more beautiful than the last time,” Mark hums, but his eyes never leave your figure– if you were still dating, you bet he’d come out with a cheesy line about how you’re prettier than the view, or something. “It didn’t rain this time around, thank god.”

Gazing at him, you shake your head in disbelief. Scoffing, you play with the grass between your fingers. “You remember that?”

“Yeah,” he hums, “I remember a lot of things.”

The sentence makes you bitterly chuckle. He knows why you’re reacting the way you are– and you have every right to. He claims to remember a lot of things, but the ones important to you, the ones you wanted him to remember, he failed to save into his memory. And that’s eventually what made you break up with him, at the end of it all.

At your reaction, he sighs and drags a hand across his face, seemingly realizing the weight of his own words and just how ridiculous he must have sounded to you right now. 

“I- That-” he stutters, shaking his head, “that sounded stupid right now, considering… everything… Didn’t it?”

“Kind of,” you nod, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, voice suddenly raw and serious, so different to the tone he’s been using with you the whole afternoon, “I don’t- I can’t remember if I said that back then, when you- when you… broke up with me, but I really am sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that, and I am in no way shape or form trying to make this about me, but I hate myself every day for the way things turned out and if I could go back to that day, I’d do so many things differently.”

The sky in front of you deepens in reds and you taste iron on your tongue, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you’ve managed to bite on your lip too hard in the midst of the conversation. Tearing out stems of grass with your clammy fingertips, you focus on the clouds running through the sky, calculating your next response.

“Okay,” you nod, not giving him much else. The answer perfectly encapsulates the way you feel on the inside right now– you don’t know if you’re ready to accept his apology, if you’re ready to let go of it and act like you weren’t hurt or that none of it ever happened, but you listened to him and you internalized his words. He is sorry. He knows he was in the wrong. And you were aware that he knew all of this before– hell, you’d even go as far as say he knew it the moment you knocked on his door that day and told him it was over– but hearing it from him surely moved something inside of you to a more comfortable place.

“I-” he starts, voice breaking making him clear his throat before he continues, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. And I know I shouldn’t have expected you to still be my friend after all of this, and that- I shouldn’t have even called you so many times and approached you at the store and stuff, but um-” he mumbles, shrugging to himself, “I guess I just couldn’t stay away from you. And again, I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect you to do anything, really. So… yeah…”

Snickering at his aimless monologue, you shake your head in disbelief. “Mark?”

“Yeah?” he stares at you, eyes a bottomless pool of emotion.

“Why did you invite me here today? What was the… point, I guess?” you ask, hugging your knees to your chest as the breeze makes goosebumps appear all over your body. 

Mark offers you a sad smile, head leaned to his right as he shrugs, and this time, his eyes don’t leave yours as he spills the truth into the air. “I guess I was just feeling selfish today,” he hums, and the sentence makes you cringe with the memory of his first call to you after your break up, “wanted to spend time with you.”

“Here, of all places?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “told you. I was feeling selfish.”

Snickering, you look away, staring at the sky again. The colors are starting to blend together into a deep, dark purple– the horizon darkening as the sun starts to say its final goodbyes to the day. You sigh to yourself, yet feel no bitterness or terror at his words. Somehow, you understand. Somehow, you get him a little too well. Somehow, you think you knew the moment he texted you today, and somehow, you think you felt it in your bones when you didn’t say no, although you could have. There’s calmness in your soul when you nod at the implication of his words, leaning back on your elbows and plopping your bottom to the ground, sitting at the dusty surface. 

“You said you didn’t expect anything out of me today, Mark.”

“And I don’t,” he says, voice soft. 

“And you brought me here to remind me of the last time we went?” you stare at him, a hint of a bitten-back smile playing with your lips. “Because you’re selfish?” 

He nods, not escaping your gaze. “To remind you of the last time we went. To show you that… I remember, I guess. And that I still care, just like the last time. If not more.”

“Mark, you can’t just say all of this and expect nothing out of me right now,” you mutter.

“Actually, I can. Because that’s what I’m doing. I’m just… laying it out in the open, and what you do with the information is completely, completely up to you,” he explains, and you find yourself chuckling at him, the atmosphere instantly lighter as you hear his voice in its usual casualness, talking to you as if he was just unpacking what went on in class today, and not the starting and the end of your one year relationship.

And he’s right. What you do with the information is completely up to you, and the next steps and the progress of your relationship with Mark Lee is also completely in your hands. You could turn away and never talk to him again, you could curse at him and tell him that it’s too late now and he missed his chance, but if that was the case, you wouldn’t be here in the first place. He wouldn’t be inviting you to this place, lying about his roommate canceling just to trick you into going, and you wouldn’t be blindly accepting the invitation, wanting to see where the afternoon brings you. 

“So you still care about me?” you hum, looking at him from under your eyelashes, noticing his slouched-over pose as he looks back at you over his shoulder.

“Always have,” he admits, “never stopped. Despite not really… acting like it in the past few months.”

“Why’d you stop acting like it, then?” you ask.

A sigh escapes his lips, his head turning forward before he leans back and sits cross-legged on the ground, more comfortably now. Shrugging, he answers the question. “I guess I just got too caught up with different things. And don’t get me wrong, you were always my priority, always, but I was all over the place with everything and my mind just couldn’t… there were too many things to keep up with and I couldn’t stay up to date with everything,” he says, “and I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s an explanation, and it doesn’t make it better or undo the pain I’ve caused you, but it’s… at least you know it was never because I’d care about you any less.”

His eyes bear into yours with such honesty you think the weight of the world will crash on you any minute, and suddenly, the whole situation seems so much clearer.

And you wouldn’t take it back, you wouldn’t undo the breakup or do anything differently, because at the end of the day, you think it was needed. Perhaps the time apart was what he needed as a wake up call and what you needed to shield yourself from hurting more. 

“Stop me from saying it if you… if you don’t want to hear it right now,” he hums, voice barely louder than a whisper. There seems to be a silent communication between the two of you, a connection of some sort that brings out the strange telepathy, but you just nod at him, a gentle smile playing with your lips as you understand exactly what he means, telling him that it’s okay and that you don’t mind– you welcome, you need to hear him say it again.

Licking his lips, he turns to you fully, facing you. There’s not a hint of nervousness in his body, having done this a lot of times before, and then it happens– the repeated confession, confirming what was there the whole time, never leaving even when the times were rough. 

“I love you,” he says.

And isn’t that all that’s needed? 

A year is a long time with someone. Somehow, you wouldn’t want the time to go to waste. At the end of the day, if love is still present, isn’t it worth trying? One more time?

“And you still don’t expect anything from me?” you ask, gazing at him softly. “You don’t expect me to say it back?”

“No,” he breathes out, shrugging. “I just needed to get it off my chest.”

“Because you’re selfish like that,” you nod, teasing him. 

“Because I’m selfish like that,” he agrees, breaking out into a slight grin.

Looking at the sky, now completely dipped in dark purple, you sigh to yourself at the turmoil of the conversation. You don’t say it back– although you feel it, you know it’s in there, playing with your heartstrings and clenching the muscle in the palm of its hand– you know love is there, deep inside, for the man that’s currently staring at you as if you hung the very stars appearing on the sky there yourself, stolen them from your own eyes and gluing them there selflessly, for everyone to see. You don’t tell him you love him back, you don’t tell him you forgive him or accept his apology. You don’t worry about what tomorrow will bring you, what your brain is going to tell you when you come down from the hill and get home, lay in your bed and overthink. You let the worries escape you, letting fondness and calm envelope you in a tight hug instead.

“Okay,” you nod, watching the boy next to you look at you with curious eyes. You take his hand into yours and place it on your thigh, playing with his fingers for a heartbeat before you meet his eyes again and smile. “I won’t say it back, but for all it’s worth, Mark… I’m glad you remembered.”

And that’s all he needs– there is love, there is fondness, and there is the silent confirmation that all you need right now is just a bit more time. 

Where do broken hearts go?

Somehow, you think they hold on to the place where it all started. Somehow, you think your heart never went anywhere– it stayed on this hill, waiting for you to pay it a visit and pick back up everything right from where you left it.

“It doesn’t seem like a good idea to go here today, Y/N,” Mark laughed behind you as he looked up to the sky, the dark clouds shielding the sun that had been previously shining down on your hiking figures, casting an orange glow on the strands of your hair. 

“Well, there’s no turning back now,” you shrugged, turning to him and grinning as you tugged on his hand, grip strong as you dragged the boy up the trail, your sneakers fast against the dirty ground. “We have finals starting next week and it’s gonna be too cold to go after the exam season is over, so we gotta go now.”

“I kind of regret telling you that I’ve never been here before now,” Mark sighed, but followed you nonetheless, breathlessly following your excited stride. It was October, the leaves on the trees were welcoming the two of you in shining colors, and the wind kissing your skin turned a bit chilly in the evenings– courtesy of the warm hoodie Mark shyly lended you when you shivered for the first time, adoring the way you, his friend, looked in the light gray fabric. Something about you wearing his clothes made the boy a bit hopeless about the day. Maybe he’ll have enough courage to confess his feelings to you, he thought. Maybe, despite the first raindrops falling on the skin of his bare arms, this evening will have a happy ending for you and him. 

“Oh, please,” you squinted at him, continuing to run up the hill– thank god it wasn’t that steep, serving both of you as the perfect hiking difficulty, “even if you wouldn’t have, I’d drag you here anyway. It’s like, my favorite place to go in Seoul, haven’t I told you before?”

You have, Mark thought. But he was okay with hearing it again. 

You squealed when the raindrops got heavier and the rain started pouring faster on the two of you, and Mark found himself laughing at your running figure. He was right behind you, praying that you don’t slip on one of the rocks and break your leg on the hiking trail, but he encouraged you with sweet comments and a hand on the small of your back as he watched the tip of the hill appear right in front of his very eyes, your body coming to a satisfied halt when you reached your destination.

“Tada!” you grinned at him, twirling a little like a ballerina, showing him the place with outstretched arms. He tried hard to observe the place, but his eyes stayed glued to your excited figure, gaze bearing into yours as you looked at him, amidst a little flustered, with sparkly orbs and a bright smile on your face. Your hair was a mess, his gray hoodie enveloping your body was slowly growing darker in color from absorbing the rain, and your sneakers were getting a bit muddy from walking around the place. He wanted to remember this moment forever, he thought– this version of you, the smiley expression on your face, the carefree and excited nature of your step. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you exclaimed, jumping around and nearing the boy, but as you went to take his hand to drag him around the top of the hill once more, your feet slipped and you fell forward, a surprised squeak battling its way out of your throat.

Your whole life flashed in front of your very eyes in that moment, embarrassment spreading down your neck at the fact that you were about to fall face first onto the ground in front of your crush of a few months, before your body collided with a soft, yet firm mass engulfing you closer. A pair of strong arms steadied you against his chest, and when you looked up at your friend, you swear all words were taken out of your dictionary, the sight leaving you speechless.

“It is,” he gaped, eyes bearing into yours. Mark was agreeing with you, but something in the back of your head was telling you that he didn’t really admire this place as much as you did– his curious gaze was always plastered somewhere completely else. 

That place being your face, of course. And your eyes, your cheeks, the mess of your bangs, and occasionally– screw that, almost always– your lips. Much like in that moment, a few centimeters away from his face, so inviting he thought it would be a crime to contain the urge. 

And so he didn’t– he didn’t control his feelings and the ever-so growing yearning for you, as he silently leaned towards your face and captured his lips with yours in a firm, yet short kiss.

He looked at you with a nervous tint behind his gaze when he leaned away, the sight of your wide eyes staring at him making a slight flush grow on his cheeks. You looked so beautiful in that moment– flustered, surprised, with messy hair and lips still apart– and he was relieved to not find a hint of a displeased emotion in your expression. 

“Okay, so- well-” you stuttered, laughing to yourself, “this didn’t go as I planned, but I guess I’m happy as long as the final result is the same,” you hummed, standing on your tippy-toes and pressing your lips against him once more, this time letting yourself enjoy the moment fully, mouth moving against his in a careful, yet excited rhythm. He tasted like the strawberry candy you offered him on the bottom of the trail and smelled a bit like rain, the mixture always staying in the depths of your mind as his warmth enveloped you in comfort and a feeling of home.

“The final result being…?” he asked when you pulled apart once again, a dazed expression overtaking his sharp features.

“Us,” you shrugged, “like this,” you clarified.

Mark laughed at that, hugging you closer to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening to the sound of raindrops washing away the top layer of dirt off the rocks on the tip of the hill, hands sneaking around his waist and enjoying the way they wrapped around him so tightly and so comfortably. You in his hoodie, in your favorite place, standing in his arms. It was raining, but it didn’t matter.

“Mark?” 

“Hm?” 

“If we ever get lost, or something happens… bring me back here, okay?” you mumbled close to his ear, lips gently glazing the skin of his ear, making goosebumps appear all over your new lover. “I’m convinced that this place could fix everything.”

“Even us?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not allowed to ever leave me now, what would there be to fix between us?” you smacked his shoulder, snickering to yourself.

“You never know,” he laughed, “what if I accidentally mess up somewhere along the way?” he asked, threading his fingers through your hair, smoothing down the wet mess.

“Okay then,” you hummed, “even us.”

Staring into your eyes, letting the moment play out by itself, Mark swore he’s never felt more at peace. He wondered if it was the effect of the place, the rain, or just your sheer presence.  “I’ll remember that,” he giggled before he let go of your body, petting your head as he took a hold of your hand, tugging you down from where you came from, “now let’s go home before we catch a cold.”

Nodding, following the man as you both carefully, yet fastly made it down the trail, you enjoyed the way his hand fit into yours and the way you knew that after this, you can’t ever come back to being friends with Mark Lee. He was all yours, completely, utterly yours, and you knew in the back of your head, that you were his– and nothing will ever change that.

You would always come back to the hill with him. It felt ridiculous to think about you two ever having to fix anything between the two of you back then, but even in that moment, you knew that for him, you’d keep trying. As long as he does– as long as he remembers.

Where do broken hearts go? You guess they always come right back to the place they come from– and they leave glued back together every single time.

You guess your heart never really left the hill.

[writer-logbook]

5 tips for proofreading & their pros and cons

Define your objectives for each chapter. In my case, some of my chapters are better written than others. My objectives for them will differ. Before starting my proofreading, I list my needs and areas of improvements, and I write them down somewhere so I have them in front of me rather than in my head alone.

Pros : allows you to know which points you need to focus on ; provides a guideline adapted to your needs.

Cons : risk of losing homogeneity and fluidity + flaws may be shifted to other chapters that didn't have them before due to a sudden imbalance.

Plan several proofreading sessions, each one of them addressing ONE NEED AT A TIME. (E.g., one for grammar, another for style, and a final one for coherence. ) And I insist on the "one need at a time" part. Even for those who can multitask (unlike me), I really don't recommend settling for a single proofreading session. It could interfere with your concentration and let you skip some flaws. And please, always give your chapter a final read after your edits to ensure that the elements make sense as a whole, and are not repeated every two paragraphs (I plead guilty, your honor)

Pros: allows you to focus precisely on each point, and give it dedicated attention.

Cons: you can quickly get confused and risk multiple re-readings + significant time investment.

I make my corrections on a separate file. Whatever you do, it's always better to have a backup and therefore to save your files (don't blindly trust autosave) to create archives. I think it's a two-ways process : 1) you open two files simultaneously, one with your V1 and one, blank, where you'll rewrite your chapter as you make changes. Eventually, this new doc will become your V2 ; 2) you copy the parts to proofread into a new document and edit directly in there.

Pros: allows you to rewrite as you wish without being discouraged by the following paragraphs - especially in case of the first way.

Cons: requires multiple files (maybe multiple screens to be at ease) and better organization.

Change the typography. I don't know about you, but after a while, I'm struck by semantic satiation (click on the link - it's Wikipedia -, it's very interesting) and nothing makes sense anymore. After the 52,846th proofreading, I might as well read in another language. I've found a relatively effective trick - not as effective as a complete break, but sometimes you need to move forward - which consists of changing the typography. I can't remember who gave me this advice though, but be sure they've been thanked more than enough in my mind. In any case, seeing words change their shape significantly helps my brain to stay focused and attentive. (Maybe it's just my mind playing tricks on me but I only see the results.)

Pros: it's simple to implement.

Cons: I don't know if this trick works for everyone or if I'm the only weirdo (you can tell me in the comment section).

Take notes. This is a very personal tip but I keep a proofreading logbook. Like, I record in a few sentences the first time an element is mentioned, how it's describes, and most importantly… I MENTION THE DATES. The story I'm currently writing is heavily governed by a chronological system, so I have an absolute need to keep the day count up to date.

Pros: helps avoid inconsistencies and oversights.

Cons: very tedious to maintain and creates (a lot) of extra work.

I've started my prooreading journey yesterday and I already want to die. If I find in the edits something that is worth making a post, be sure that I will. Or let me know if you're simply curious.

Gentle reminder : Best is the worst enemy of good so, at some point, you'll have to let it go and let your chapter live its life to its fullest. Don't be hard on yourself and be proud of your work - or know that I am.

[novlr]

How do I strengthen my writing? I tend to fall back on bad habits because I can't find good habits to replace them.

Building sustainable writing habits that really help you improve can be really difficult. Especially if you don't know where to look. So, here are 10 tips for building good writing habits that can help strengthen your writing!

1. Clear out your creative faucets

Step away from your project and do something else! Write something different. Let yourself write badly. Or just plain old take a break. Your writing will suffer if you're constantly forcing yourself to work on something that isn't bringing you joy.

2. Read voraciously

In the immortal words of Stephen King: “If you don’t have time to read, you don’t have time to write.” 

Read widely in your own genre and outside of it. Take inspiration from other authors, and read critically to see what they do well and what they could do better.

3. Read some bad writing, too

Breaking down exactly why a piece of writing doesn't work for you can be super helpful for understanding what to avoid in your own work. 

4. Try on different writing styles

Try out different approaches to storytelling to find the voice that feels most like yours. You might find yourself attracted to descriptive, sensory prose, or more to austere and pointed prose. Your writing will be strongest when you're the most authentic self you can be.

5. Explore characterisation 

People are messy. Accurately and compellingly conveying this innate messiness is essential to creating a powerful story. Explore your characters and who they are, and if it's a character-driven story, don't be afraid to let them drive.

6. Make friends with your thesaurus 

A great way to make a piece of prose shine even brighter is to expand your vocabulary. There are a lot of words in the English language that mean similar things but have slightly different moods and tones. Finding the exact right word to convey what you’re trying to say will help your writing land more emphatically with your reader. 

7. Banish filtering words

Filtering is one of the most common mistakes new writers make. It involves describing a character’s sensations or feelings with filtering words like felt, saw, heard, knew, watched, or realised. This holds the reader at a distance and makes them feel like they’re hearing a story, rather than living it.

An example of filtering would be, “She watched the sun rise majestically over the mountains”. It would feel more immediate to simply say, “The sun rose majestically over the mountains”. The reader already knows your point-of-view character is watching; now, the reader can watch it with them. 

8. Glare disapprovingly at the passive voice

Passive voice isn’t necessarily wrong all the time, but nine times out of ten, it will slow down the pace of your story and encourage the reader to lose interest in your characters. Passive voice means having something done to a character — “John was punched in the face by Nick” — instead of a character actively doing something: “Nick punched John in the face”.

9. Familiarise yourself with story structure

The best stories follow an established plot structure, and follow it so smoothly that the reader doesn’t even realise there’s an ancient storytelling template behind it. These structures are designed to introduce just the right amount of tension and suspense and to give the reader the ideal payoff by the end. Rather than being formulaic, they help with pacing and plot development.

10. Get peer feedback

Finally, the best way to make your work as strong as it can be is to get some feedback from other writers. This can be from a professional editor, a beta reader, or a collaborative writing group. Getting a second pair of eyes can help you catch plot holes or inconsistencies before you send your story out into the world.

Want to know more? Read the full post at the link below!

[pulisicsgirl]

christmas on my own - mason mount

summary: when Y/N finds herself spending Christmas alone for the first time in her life, a chance encounter with Mason may prove to be just the cure she needed for her holiday blues

pairing: Mason Mount x reader

word count: 6.3k

warnings/tags: semi-established relationship, the tiniest bit of angst at the beginning but overwhelming fluff for the rest of it, Christmas celebrations, awkward encounters with meeting the family for the first time

requested: no

notes: surprise!! Please ignore the fact that it's been three months since I last posted a fic. Life has been coming at me pretty fast this year, and it's made it incredibly difficult for me to find the time or motivation to write. But I've been thinking about and planning this one since almost October, so I wanted to be sure I was able to put this out as a little Christmas gift for you all!! Thank you for being so patient with my inconsistent posting schedule this year, and I hope you're all able to enjoy some time with your loved ones this holiday season! Also I know that Mila is still a baby, but for the sake of the fic, please pretend she's a toddler Merry Christmas to all of you, my loves!!

You blew hot air into your clenched fists in an attempt to warm them as you stood in the small Manchester café. The biting cold of the outdoors was still making your fingertips ache as you lingered near the counter, long after you had finished placing your order and paying.

You briefly surveyed the somewhat empty café, admiring the glowing lights and cheerful decorations that the owners had put out for the holiday season. A few sets of what you assumed to be grandparents and their grandchildren were also waiting alongside you, some of the children pressing their faces up against the glass display case as they relayed which pastries and treats they wanted to take home with them.

Today was the first Christmas that you had ever spent alone, and seeing the families happy and smiling together made your heart ache a bit, longing for your childhood when the season still felt magical and joyous.

To say that it had stung when your parents told you they would be travelling to spend the holiday with your brother would be an understatement. It had been unexpected, and they had only given you a little less than a week’s notice, meaning that as you were expected to work both the day before and after Christmas, you didn’t have enough time to make arrangements to go on the trip with them. You knew that your parents missed your brother as he had moved away a couple of years ago, and you understood why they would want to go see him and his wife that he had recently married. But it was hard to get left behind to spend the holiday that’s all about being together and giving to one another alone.

So now, on the afternoon of Christmas, you found yourself standing in a small bakery in Manchester, the very one that your family would always stop by on Christmas Day to get a few smalls treats to take back home after you had opened all of your gifts.

You had spent the morning at home, watching a couple Christmas films to try to put yourself in a festive mood and generally just feeling sorry for yourself. You had tried your best not to just mope about all day, but it proved difficult. By the time the afternoon rolled around, you decided that it just didn’t feel right to not make your annual trip to the bakery, even if it would be by yourself this year. So you had dragged yourself out of bed, put on a nice sweater and some black leggings and styled your hair a bit in the hopes of making yourself feel better, and decided to walk to the bakery in order to get a bit of fresh air.

You were lost in your own thoughts, fantasizing about the sweet taste of the coffee and pastry that would surely be coming your way soon when the bell above the entrance rang out. Your eyes naturally jumped over to the door to see where the noise was coming from, and your stomach sank to your feet when you saw who had stepped in.

It was Mason.

You and Mason had been going out for the last few weeks—not long enough to put an official label on it, but long enough that the two of you had gotten to know each other better and knew that you were both serious about this.

You had no idea what he was doing at the small bakery, but the last thing you wanted was for him to find out how pitiful you were, spending Christmas at home, alone on your couch.

Your hand darted up, scratching the side of your head in an attempt to hide your face from him as he approached the register only 10 feet away from you. Hoping that was enough to make sure he wouldn’t see you, your heart began to race as you realized that the worker would be calling out your name when your order was ready, and there would surely be no escape then.

You were beginning to contemplate the possibility of just leaving without the items you had paid for when his soft voice cut through your thoughts, thwarting any plans you’d had to run.

“Y/N?” he asked sweetly, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Fancy seeing you here! Happy Christmas!”

You glanced up at him, his eyes bright as you tried to feign surprise at the sight of him.

“Mason, hi!” He drew you into a quick embrace, his scent surrounding you almost immediately. “Happy Christmas!” you mumbled into his chest before he released you.

“W-What are you doing here?” you rushed to ask, hoping to avoid any questions about your holiday celebrations.

“I’m actually on my way back home from training,” he spoke, scratching the back of his neck.

“Training? On Christmas?” you exclaimed. “That’s cruel!”

He laughed shortly, nodding along as he spoke. “I know, but we actually have a match tomorrow, so they couldn’t afford us a day off, unfortunately.” He shrugged, seeming like his cheery mood hadn’t been too phased by the interruption from his job. “But anyway, my family all came to mine for the holidays, and my nieces insisted I bring back a treat for them when I came home. I remembered you had mentioned this place, so I thought I should give it a try.”

Your heart fluttered at his mention of your conversation from a couple weeks ago. You had told him about the tradition in passing on a date when he had asked about how you and your family usually celebrated Christmas, and the fact that he had even remembered that detail meant the world to you.

“Oh, that’s so lovely that they were all still able to come up to celebrate with you,” you smiled at him.

“Yeah, they all arrived yesterday, and we did stockings this morning, but I’m sure my nieces are itching for me to get home so they can open the rest of their presents.”

Your chest felt warm at the way he always spoke about his family—especially his young nieces. Anyone could see from a mile off that he loved them all dearly.

“Are they going to be able to stay long?”

“They’ll be here for a couple of days, actually! Gonna be able to go to the game tomorrow as well, so I’m really excited to be able to have them there.” His grin spread nearly from ear to ear, the crinkles by his eyes becoming more pronounced. “But what about you? I’m assuming you’re here picking up the traditional Christmas pastries?”

Your heart sank, trying to find a way around the fact that you were alone for the holidays. You didn’t want him to pity you or to feel bad for expressing his joy over having his family with him. “Well, actually, I—um—”

“Y/N!” one of the bakery’s employees called out, placing a small to-go cup of coffee and a single, wrapped pastry on the counter. Your head dipped low, you walked over to the counter, picking up your order and quietly thanking the employee before you turned to walk back over to Mason. The look of confusion was unmistakable on his face as he looked at the single pastry in your hands, rather than the bulk order of treats that you had told him about weeks prior.

“My… parents actually went to visit my brother for the holidays,” you spoke quietly, having to force each word of your admission out. “So the order’s just for me today.” You forced a smile onto your face, hoping he wouldn’t see through the façade.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been on your own today,” Mason spoke, and you rushed to assure him that you were fine.

“I mean, yeah, but it’s—”

“Y/N, there’s no use in that. We have plenty of food and space at mine! You should’ve said something!”

“I—what?” His response caught you completely off-guard, not at all what you had expected him to say.

“Come over! We’d love to have you!” A huge smile spread across his face as he spoke to you. “There’s no reason for you to spend the holidays alone.”

“Mason, I couldn’t,” you immediately began trying to track back, but he didn’t seem at all discouraged by your protest. “I wouldn’t want to impose, and—”

“You’re not imposing, I’m inviting you,” he stated, matter-of-factly, as if it was just a simple matter. “My family would love to have you, and my nieces will be overjoyed to have someone new around!”

You were stumbling over your words, unable to fight against his persistence. “But… But I…”

“Look, we don’t have to say anything about us at all,” Mason said, sensing your resolve crumbling bit by bit. “You don’t have to meet my family as the girl that I’m dating, I’ll just introduce you as a friend. It’ll be completely fine.”

You bit your lip as you searched his face for any sign of hesitation. You couldn’t deny that the idea of joining in his family’s festivities did lift your spirits a little bit. The idea of being gathered around a Christmas tree and watching everyone opening gifts, maybe wrapped up in a warm blanket as you shared laughs with the others.

The final nail in the coffin for you was thinking about going back to your dreary apartment with the half-hearted decorations and spending the rest of the day by yourself.

“Please?” Mason pleaded with you one last time, his eyebrows raised as he gave you his best puppy dog eyes to convince you.

“You’re sure no one will mind?”

“I’m positive. My mum would be more upset with me if she found out I knew you were spending Christmas alone and didn’t bring you home.” The grin resumed its place on his lips as soon as you agreed, Mason bouncing slightly on his toes in giddy excitement.

Just at that moment, a voice rang out, calling Mason’s name, signaling that his order was ready to go. He quickly moved to the counter, scooping up the rather large box of pastries and holding it in one hand while he grabbed yours with the other and nearly dragged you out of the door of the bakery. You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from your lips at his almost child-like glee at your agreement to join his family for the rest of their Christmas celebrations.

“Alright, you want to just follow me there?” he asked as the two of you strode into the parking lot. You had been to his place once before for a movie night, but he wanted to be certain you got there safely and didn’t lose your way.

“I actually walked here from my apartment, so would you mind if I just rode with you?” you asked sheepishly.

“Of course, love.” The pet name slipped out without him even thinking about it as he led you to the passenger side of his car, opening the door for you. Testing his luck a bit, Mason pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head as you stepped past him to get into the car, and you felt the heat rushing into your cheeks as he closed the door behind you.

He popped in the driver’s seat, starting the engine and turning the radio onto some station playing nonstop Christmas music, and the two of you were off, heading in the direction of his home.

You were thankful that his house was a little while away as it gave you time to collect yourself before walking into a room full of Mason’s closest family members. You thanked your lucky stars that you had gotten to urge to dress at least a little bit nice before leaving your apartment that morning so that you’d be presentable for meeting them.

After all, even if he introduced you to them as his friend this time around, if things with Mason went the way you hoped they would, you’d be seeing them many times again in the future, and you wanted to make a good first impression. 

The drive to his house was comfortable. The moments of silence were peaceful and never tense. The two of you caught up a bit since you hadn’t seen each other for a few days, and you tried your best not to think too hard about the nerve-wracking evening ahead of you. Mason kept glancing over at your bouncing knee—he could tell that you were nervous, and you could tell that he was fighting the urge to hold your hand.

So, in a moment of bravery, you reached over, bringing his free hand into your lap and intertwining your fingers. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered at the slight blush that crept up his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose as he began stroking his thumb across your knuckles, back and forth in a soothing motion.

Sooner than you were prepared for, Mason turned into the long driveway that wound back to his house, and you swallowed a nervous lump as his house came into view.

“You’re sure this is okay?” you asked as he put the car in park and turned off the engine, still somewhat nervous about intruding on their family holiday.

“Y/N, it’s fine,” Mason held your face in both of his hands for a moment, trying to reassure you to the best of his ability. “My mum loves hosting new people, so she’s gonna be super excited when I bring you in there!”

Something about the way he said that made your ears perk up. “Wait, Mason—Mason!” you exclaimed as he quickly got out of the driver’s seat. You threw open your door, leaping to your feet despite the fact that Mason was on his way around to your side to open the door for you. “Did you not at least text them to let them know I was coming with you?” you asked, exasperated.

Mason shrugged as if he didn’t see what the big deal was, shaking his head ‘no.’

“Mason! I can’t just—”

He cut you off by pressing his finger to your lips, gently shushing you. “Hey, trust me,” he looked intensely into your eyes. “It’s okay,” he said slowly.

Your shoulders slumped slightly, resigning yourself to him as you whispered a soft “okay.”

He tapped the tip of your nose and a quiet giggle escaped from your lips. You hated and loved how this boy could turn you into complete mush in mere moments. It made you feel so giddy but also so vulnerable at the same time, and it was a feeling you were still getting used to.

He held onto the car door, letting you step out from behind it before closing it and gestured for you to head toward his front door once he had retrieved the box of pastries from his back seat. He reassured you of his presence just behind you with his hand placed gently on the small of your back.

You hesitated at the front door, letting out a shuddery breath.

“Hey, it’s no biggie. Don’t freak yourself out, okay?” Mason spoke as if he had been able to read your mind, sneaking one final kiss to your forehead before stepping toward the door and reaching for the doorknob. Even though you hadn’t been seeing each other for very long, you noticed how Mason couldn’t seem to help himself from those small touches—the little gestures of reassurance like the forehead kisses, a hand on your back, and gentle touch on your knee—and it kind of surprised you how much they settled you, as you had never been big on copious amounts of physical touch in your past relationships.

Mason stepped through the doorway into his home, and you followed behind him, doing your best to still your racing heart.

It was only seconds after the sound of the door opening could be heard within the house that you hear the sound of tiny feet slapping on the floor, heading in your direction. Moments later, two little girls rounded the corner and came bolting toward you and Mason as he closed the door behind the two of you, the air filled with their squeals and giggles.

“Uncle Masey! Uncle Masey!” they screamed, wrapping their arms around each of his legs. Mason immediately matched their energy, clearly just as excited to be coming home to them as he squeezed them close to his body with his free hand. You took the box of pastries from him so that he could bend down, scooping them both up in his arms and pressing kisses all over their faces. The girls giggled and screamed as he told them how much he had missed them between kisses.

Mason finally pulled back after one final, dramatic kiss that had the older of the two wiping at her cheek and she laughed at him. If you had thought the way Mason spoke about his nieces was sweet, it was nothing compared to the way he acted around them.

“Summer, Mila, this is Y/N,” Mason spoke once the girls’ giggles had quieted.

“Is she your wife?” the older girl asked, and your mouth dropped open in shock.

Mason, clearly amused by her question, threw his head back and laughed. “No, Summer. Y/N is just my friend.”

“Oh, okay,” Summer shrugged, quickly moving on from the conversation, wiggling so that Mason would set her back on the floor. Immediately she took off, running out of sight and Mason followed behind her with Mila still in his arms.

Voices could be heard coming from the kitchen, and you remained just behind Mason as you followed him, hoping that his body would shield you from the rest of his family.

When you found the others, you first saw Summer crawling up into one of the tall chairs at the kitchen bar, surrounded by numerous others. Perfectly-shaped gingerbread cookies lined the countertop, placed on sheets of wax paper, and bags of differently-colored icing were strewn around the countertop, along with various shapes and sizes of sprinkles. Cheerful Christmas music was ringing out through the room, and a warm feeling spread through your chest at the sight of it all.

Several of Mason’s family members greeted him as soon as the three of you entered the spacious kitchen, happy to see him back home from training.

Mason wasted no time in bringing you around to his side with a gentle hand between your shoulders before he let his hand fall to his side, not wanting to make you feel self-conscious in front of his family.

“Guys, this is my friend, Y/N,” Mason smiled at you reassuringly. “She’s gonna be joining us for the rest of the day.”

His introduction irked you slightly, wanting to give more of an explanation for why you were crashing their holiday when Summer piped up from where she was very focused on decorating her gingerbread man. “And she’s not Uncle Masey’s wife.”

A chorus of laughs rang through the room, and you felt your cheeks heat up, forcing a laugh to try to play off the fact that you felt like you were about to pee your pants.

A woman who you could only assume was Mason’s mother wiped her hands off on a dish towel, walking in your direction with open arms.

“Oh, it’s so lovely to meet you, Y/N! I’m Debbie—Mason’s mum,” she spoke, confirming your guess. Mason quickly snatched the box of pastries from you so your hands were free and Debbie pulled you into a tight embrace—it was one of those hugs where you felt every muscle in your body relax a bit, and immediately you felt a little bit more settled in the unfamiliar environment.

“Thank you so much for having me.” You felt a bit silly, thanking her for being willing to do something she hadn’t even really agreed to in the first place.

“No, no, it’s nothing!” Debbie pulled back from the hug, waving her hand at you before she led you further into the kitchen, beginning to introduce you to everyone.  You met Mason’s father, Tony, who had greeted you with the same warm embrace that Debbie had, and then she introduced you to Mason’s brother, Lewis, and his sister Jaz and her husband before repeating the young girls’ names to you. Everyone had greeted you cheerfully, not even blinking an eye at the fact that Mason had brought a stranger home to join their Christmas celebration.

It wasn’t long before Debbie had you set up with your own sheet of wax paper and a cookie to decorate. You caught Mason’s eye, a sweet smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye that said I told you so.

You were surprised at how easy it was to settle in with Mason’s family. You had never been someone that was good at meeting new people, and it typically took you a while to warm up to them. But Mason’s family wasted no time in treating you as one of their own, and it almost felt natural to be there with them within minutes.

Playful banter was exchanged, Summer and Mila were shouting for everyone to look at their sprinkle-covered cookies, and everyone was laughing. Mason settled into his spot next to you, nudging you gently with his shoulder.

Mason’s family asked a little bit about yourself, but they kept the questions light, and you were thankful that they didn’t try to dig into why Mason had brought you home.

Once all the cookies had been decorated, the girls began shouting that it was time to open presents and Jaz had to wrestle them into wiping their hands and faces clean of icing before they took off, sprinting in the direction of the living room.

Once everyone had settled in the living room, some on the couch, some sitting on the floor, Tony donned a large Santa hat and beard before he began to distribute the gifts that were under and around the tree. You had kicked your shoes off by the door and tucked your legs up under you as you settled into the cushions next to Mason, a respectable amount of space still between you as you still didn’t really know how to handle yourselves around his family.

Each person opened their presents as Tony handed them out, one by one, and everyone ooh-ed and ahh-ed as each gift was uncovered. Debbie and Jaz were taking lots of photos of everyone as they tore into their gifts. Your heart swelled at the thoughtful gifts that were exchanged. It became quickly apparent that remembering small details about the things people said was something that Mason had gotten from his family.

Mason kept silently checking in on you, glancing over to make sure you doing okay. You could feel his gaze on the side of your face, glancing over and making eye contact with him before shooting him an assuring smile.

By the time all of the presents were open and the wrapping paper and ribbons had been collected and put into trash bags, it was nearing dinner time and Debbie disappeared back into the kitchen to put the finishing touches on the food. You sprang to your feet, naturally wanting to help her as a thank you for having you as a guest (despite her insistence that you didn’t need to), and Jaz joined the two of you soon after.

Conversation flowed naturally between the three of you, and you felt completely at ease talking with them as you worked to finish the finals bits of the Christmas dinner, most of it having been prepared before and very little needing to be done to finish it.

The fated question finally came up as the three of you were carrying everything to the table.

“So, Y/N, I don’t mean to pry, but I’ve got to ask.” Your heart leapt immediately at Debbie’s words. “Are you and Mason only friends, or is there something more going on there?”

You pondered for a moment how to answer her question. At the beginning of the day, you would never have dreamed of admitting the nature of your relationship with Mason to his mother. But now, after the time you had spent with him, you settled on telling her the truth. You knew you were serious about the budding relationship between the two of you, and you knew he was, too. Though you hadn’t officially put any labels on it, having decided to take things slow, you had started being more open about it with your circle of friends.

“Well, I… we’ve… gone on a few dates,” you started, and a pleased smile took over Debbie’s face. “We’re taking things slow, but he’s been an absolute gentleman and he’s been nothing short of amazing to me.”

Debbie beamed with pride at your words. “Well, I didn’t raise him to be anything less than that, so I’m glad to hear it.”

“We haven’t been going out for very long, and I really wasn’t planning on crashing your family’s Christmas today,” you felt the need to explain yourself, now that you were putting all of your cards on the table. “My family… they actually are out of town visiting my brother this holiday season, and I happened to run into Mason at the bakery this afternoon. As soon as he found out I was spending Christmas on my own, he insisted I come back here with him, and he was not taking no for an answer,” you chuckled at the recent memory.

“Oh, love,” Debbie’s face held a slight pout as she instantly read the sadness that you tried to hide over not spending the holiday with your family. She pulled you into another of her amazing hugs, placing a quick kiss on your cheek as she drew away. “Well I speak for everyone when I say we’ve loved having you here with us.”

Your mind flashed back to how unphased everyone had been by your arrival. “Does Mason do this a lot? Picking up strays for the holidays?” you tried to play off your question with a laugh, momentarily wondering if you were just another girl on a long list.

Debbie shook her head. “No, he’s never done anything like this before. And he’s certainly never brought a girl home for something like this,” she spoke, calming your nerves. You had felt a bit silly for asking in the first place, but her words soothed your fleeting insecurities. “But hopefully we can look forward to having you at many Christmases in the future,” she beamed, patting your cheek before she wandered back into the kitchen and refraining from prying any further.

You blew out a long breath that you didn’t even realize you had been holding, trying to wrap your head around the conversation you had just had—with a woman you had only met a few hours ago. And it wasn’t just some normal thing for Mason to bring girls home during the holidays, but everyone had just been that welcoming to you, despite showing up without warning. Your chest felt full, swelling with love for Mason and his family.

Debbie called the others to the table to eat, and you wandered in the direction of the living room, hoping to catch Mason for a moment before you joined the others. The rest of his family filtered out of the room, leaving you and Mason alone for the first time in the last few hours.

“You doing okay?” Mason asked, and you wordlessly wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest and holding onto him tighter than you ever had before. Caught a bit off-guard by the affection, Mason wrapped his arms gently around your body, running his fingers up and down your spine.

His heart sank when you pulled your head back to look at him, arms still wrapped around his torso, and he saw the tears welling in your eyes.

“What happened, love?! Did someone say something—”

“Thank you,” you whispered, your lower lip trembling.

“For what, love?” Mason cradled your cheek in one of his hands, swiping his thumb under your eye to wipe away a tear. You noticed that he used the pet name more frequently when he was concerned.

“For bringing me here. For introducing me to your family. They’re amazing, Mason.”

A look of relief and adoration washed over Mason’s face and he smiled at you, leaning down to press his forehead to yours. “I’m so glad you came.”

“Me, too,” you let your eyes slip closed, allowing yourself to take a moment to yourselves and let your heart settle a bit.

“You know your mom asked me about us?” you broke the silence after a few seconds.

“Yeah?” he pulled back to look at your face, trying to gauge your reaction. “And what did you tell her?”

“The truth,” you gently shrugged your shoulders. “That we’ve gone out a few times and we’re taking things pretty slow, but that I think I’ll probably keep you around.”

“Yeah?” he grinned, and you nodded in response.

“Come on, we should probably head in there before Summer comes looking,” you pulled back, wiping away any stray tears with the sleeve of your sweater, hoping that no one would be able to tell how emotional you had just gotten.

The two of you joined the others at the table, taking your place between Mason and Summer after she had insisted you sit beside her, much to Mason’s fake offense. The food was incredible, as it had been a while since you’d had a big home-cooked meal like this, and you were sure to let Debbie know how much you enjoyed it. When everyone’s plates were empty, everyone took part in the freshly-decorated cookies and Mason and Lewis cleared the dishes, being sure to push you, Debbie, and Jaz toward the living room before any of you tried to help.

You were just returning from a quick trip to the bathroom when the boys walked back in from the kitchen, and you noticed everyone settling back down on the couch.

“We always watch a Christmas film after dinner, but I can take you home if you’re ready to leave,” Mason explained to you.

You thought over the offer for a moment, deciding you weren’t really ready to part from Mason and his family just yet.

“I mean… I wouldn’t mind sticking around a little while longer—unless you guys were wanting it to be just a family thing,” you rushed to add, not wanting to overstay your welcome.

Your words were met with immediate protest from the rest of Mason’s family, each of them insisting that you stay, and Mason smiled down at you. “Yeah, what they said.”

You giggled, letting him lead you around to sit next to him on the couch, allowing yourself to sit a bit closer to him than you had earlier that afternoon.

Tony even offered for you to pick the film, but as soon as Summer had shouted her desire to watch Elf, you were all agreed.

Mason threw a fluffy blanket over both of your legs as the movie’s opening scene played. “Is this okay?” he whispered, trying not to draw anyone else’s attention and you nodded in return.

You tucked your legs under your body, allowing your knee to rest slightly on his thigh and your shoulder to lean onto his, now feeling more comfortable showing some affection around Mason’s family.

The movie played on, and your heart soared listening to Summer and Mila giggle and clap their hands at their favorite bits. You felt at home there with Mason and his family, all cozied up in his living room on the night of Christmas as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Your heart swelled with the love that you already felt for all of them, and though you knew it was still a bit soon, you couldn’t wait to get to know them and get to spend more time with them as your relationship with Mason developed.

As comfortable as you were and with all of the lights in the house turned off for the movie, you didn’t even realize your eyes were slipping closed until you jolted awake, recognizing the scene on the TV as one that was near to the end of the movie. Mason must have felt the sudden movement from where your head was resting on his shoulder, and he took your hand in his, running his thumbs over your knuckles to calm you, the same way he had done in the car earlier that day.

You nestled your head further into his shoulder, savoring the last few moments you had with Mason and his family before the movie ended.

It was over sooner than you would have liked, and everyone sat up from where they had sunk into the couch cushions, stretching and yawning. It was clear that everyone was exhausted from the day’s festivities. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, noticing Jaz and her husband quietly scooping up the girls from where they, too, had fallen asleep, and carried them down the hallway, seemingly to put them to bed.

“You ready to go home?” Mason asked you quietly as everyone began to rise from the couch. You nodded. “Okay, let me go grab my keys and we can head out.”

“Oh, Mason, I can just call an Uber or something, I don’t want to take you away from your family—”

“Absolutely not,” he cut you off. “You think I’m gonna let some stranger come pick you up and drive your back to your apartment?” You grinned at him, unable to find the words to answer him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” His voice held an air of playful sarcasm.

Slowly, the two of you made your way to the front entrance. Everyone bade you goodbye as you made to leave. Debbie was sure to get a couple more hugs in before you left, insisting that you come around the next time they were up to visit, and you promised that you would.

Before long, you found yourself sitting in Mason’s car once again as he backed out into the street and set out on the route to your apartment. You were leaning across the center console of his car, leaning your head on his shoulder, and holding his free hand in yours.

You were feeling especially affectionate after the day you had, full of love for him and his family. The drive was silent as you listened to the music softly playing from his radio, no words needed to communicate to each other how you were feeling.

Before long, Mason pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex and insisted upon walking you up to your door, like the gentleman he always was.

As you reached your door, you turned to face him, giggling at the cliché of it all as you wrapped your arms around his torso. He pulled you in close to him, holding you tightly as he beamed down at you.

“Was your Christmas okay, then? Even though you didn’t get to spend it the way you usually do?”

“Mason, it was wonderful,” you smiled up at him, feeling like there were no words that would do justice for how the day had made you feel. “It was better than I ever could have imagined. Thank you for bringing me home with you today. I was honestly feeling awful after spending the morning by myself and this was the best Christmas miracle I could’ve ever dreamed up.”

Mason squeezed you a little tighter, pleased that his impulsive decision at the bakery to invite you to his home had worked out. “I’m so glad you were there. I’m so glad you got to meet them.”

“I am, too. And I’m glad I got to share this day with you.” Your heart felt like it was overflowing, and you could barely hold yourself together.

You snaked one of your hands around the back of Mason’s neck, threading your fingers into his hair and pulling him down to join your lips in a long but gentle kiss. It was the first one you had shared all day, as Mason had been waiting for you to initiate it first, but you couldn’t refrain from indulging yourself any longer. This was surely your favorite kiss that the two of you had shared, even more so than your first. It was so full of unspoken passion and love, and it left your head spinning when you finally pulled apart for air, foreheads still pressed together.

Mason couldn’t help but press two more quick pecks on your lips before finally pulling back to look at you. The two of you just smiled at each other for a moment, and you studied Mason’s features as you stood there.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Mason whispered, breaking the silence.

“Goodnight, Mason,” you replied. “Thank you for everything today.” Mason’s only response was a firm kiss on your forehead before he unwound his arms from your body, taking a couple of steps backward as he began heading back to his car.

You watched him walk down the hallway, glancing back at you with a wave before he rounded the corner, and you entered your apartment.

Closing your eyes and leaning against the closed door, you smiled to yourself. You may not have known Mason for long, but already, you were certain that this boy meant the absolute world to you, and his family had found their place securely in your heart.

tag list: @landoslover @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @brasiliangp @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellspulisic @mm-vii @captainpulisic

[diana-bluewolf]

It’s this blog's first birthday! 🥳 Wanted to gather some of my fav drawings and thoughts about being in the fandom.

Being in a fandom is not always easy, but it is definitely worth it. 

1. It’s a perfect soft-skill trainer. It teaches me to focus on what I can control (like my reactions) rather than what I can’t (other people’s opinions). To be myself and not be ashamed of my interests. To stop overthinking and just enjoy the process. To accept imperfection as an inevitable part of any art…and myself. To stop comprehending the terms ‘self-indulgent’ and ‘cringe’ as synonyms. To prioritise my own well-being to avoid burn-out. And most importantly, not to cringe at my art I posted a day ago 🤣

2. It's a powerful therapy tool. I mean, have you tried to write an OC? Poor things, I don't envy them, but it turned out to be a perfect instrument to understand my own head's wiring better. It's like my subconscious is speaking to me through my OC's actions. I started this blog at one of the most challenging times in my life (let's just say that characters with external and internal scars appeal to me on a personal level. Not to be dramatic. Ok, I am, sorry, it's my only flaw), and it affected Chris severely, to the extent that I couldn't even imagine it would. But all the insights I got about myself via him are priceless. 

3. It’s the best source of inspiration. I had been in the art block for years, but seeing your guys cool art reignited my desire to draw. It was difficult (to say the least) to start posting amateur art about my MC on the blog that was followed for the screenshots of the popular characters, but I’m glad I did because, in another case, I would have never met some of my friends here. My art style is inconsistent as I keep experimenting, so some of my drawings are way better than others, but I’m still growing and proud of it. 

4. And most importantly, it's brought me together with some of the coolest people in my life. I'm so grateful to everyone who follows/followed me. Thank you so much for your support now or in the past, even if you just lurk. If you regularly appear on my notifs, I do recognise you and am very grateful. Even if I don't always respond - sorry, it's just because my social battery is often very low. I'm the most introverted introvert irl, even though I don't seem like one here. I'm training to overcome my social anxiety here, can you tell? 🤣 

Here I wanted to write something about my moots, but…Well, I have no idea how to continue whatever I had intended to write because just a thought of you all got me terribly overwhelmed with warm fuzzy feelings 😑 I blame you, guys 😤 So I will just write that I love you, but know this is an understatement.

Love this fandom, its creativity and all the incredibly talented and supportive people here. You guys are the best 🤗

[pk-ghost]

TEMPORARY ASKBLOG OFFICIALY OPENED!!! NESS AND LUCAS TRAVEL THE SMASH-VERSE

Basically they're on a break from Smash Bros and exploring the worlds of their friends! <3 <3 <3

This temporary askblog will be running during August, for @pkmoth 's motherbound-askapalooza event! :3

I will try to reply with drawings and a little bit of writing to your asks! I want to focus on how these two would interact with different worlds, find the stuff they would appreciate about their friends' homes <3

I ship this two with all my heart BUT for this event I don't want to focus on shippy stuff, just them having fun and exploring. I'd really appreciate if your ask focused on that too 🥺💖

Also, I'm not a hardcore gamer, so my knowledge of a lot of these games is superficial. I will do my best to at least do a bit of research before replying to asks but if you have any specific knowledge you want to share I'd appreciate that too :3

I'll be tagging all my posts for this event with the hashtag #motherbound askapalooza

Thank you for reading, let's enjoy this journey together!💖💖💖💖💖

P.S. My style is very inconsistent so if you see reply's with varying artstyles OOPS SORRY SORRY

[sy3ra]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ lovestruck!

𖤐 description: love-struck/lovestruck (adj.) experiencing intense feelings of romantic love for someone; besotted or infatuated.

𖤐 ft. lovestruck/lovesick! satoru × yuji's sister! reader (fem)

𖤐 content: lovestruck/lovesick! satoru, fluff, sickeningly disgusting fluff, the gojo satoru falling in love, wholesome, feeding my delulu rn, cringe and cliche sorry, reader is described as very beautiful, almost angelic (the things lovestruck! satoru can see lol), reader is yuji's big sister here (obviously an au)

𖤐 author's note: my writing style is so inconsistent i'm so sorry, everything's just based on my mood lol & my grammar sucks. anyways i'm terribly down bad for a lovestruck satoru so, i'm bringing y'all with me. (p. s. reader is well versed in arts and crafts and runs a small business in australia)

(author from the future: heyy, since y'all agreed that i should post this piece of crap rotting in my drafts, so here it is! so sorry for the late post, i've been busy with school.)

masterlist | requests

reblogs are appreciated!

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆★

"sensei, can we go to the airport?"

yuji suddenly asks, looking up at his teacher, who was seated beside him. "airport? why do we need to go there?" probed satoru. "my big sister's coming back from australia today. normally, she would only come back for vacation but...now that our grandpa has passed, i guess she just wanted to give me some support." yuji responded with a mellow smile at the thought of his big sis, he's missed her so much.

satoru pondered for a moment, before giving his student an accepting grin and a thumbs up. "i don't see why not! i mean if it's for my student of course i'll accept" he said, pearly whites showing as he stood up, which was soon followed by a gleeful yuji. "really? thank you, sensei!" yuji's smile widened, to which satoru returned with the same gleeful smile. seeing his students happy in this damned world was enough.

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆★

"so, what's your sister like?" satoru asked curiously, hands gripping the steering wheel as they drove to the airport. (unfortunately, he had to drive) yuji's eyes lit up at this, finding this the best opportunity to ramble about his big sister.

"she's the best sister anyone could ever possibly ask for, except her teasing, she still treats me like a kid even now.." yuji started, obviously passionate about his beloved big sister. "she's well versed in arts and crafts, and even she even opened up a small shop in australia!"  she's talented, satoru thought, feeling the gleefulness of his student from the driver's seat. "she sounds impressive," he nodded with a smile, a pause following soon after. "is she pretty?" satoru felt bold at the moment, not sure why. maybe he was just curious, yes that's it, right?

"very! she's basically the female version of me, sensei!" yuji replied, to which satoru chuckled imagining a vague image of yuji's sister in his mind. "can't wait to meet her then!" satoru nodded with a cheeky smile as they got nearer to the airport.

the weather was surprisingly pleasant, the sun shining down from the large patch of blue sky, covered slightly by white fluffy cumulus clouds creating a breezy atmosphere that isn't cold but not too hot. the traffic wasn't too much of a bother as well, they got to the airport as quickly as they left the jujutsu technical high school.

the only predicament was, the airport is jam packed with people. yuji frantically searched for his big sister, since her plane had landed thirty minutes ago. even with satoru's height, it's still quite hard to look around properly, he didn't quite know what yuji's big sister looked like in person, yuji just described her to be a feminine version of him.

that is until he sees his student's eyes light up, rushing towards someone, almost pushing everyone that was in the way, engulfing a shorter girl with the same pink hair as yuji in a bear hug.

"you've grown so much, yuji! you're taller than me now!" the pink haired woman said, stepping back to look at her little brother (that's not so little anymore). satoru couldn't see her very well, unfortunately. "i missed you lots, nee-san! i brought sensei with me, come meet him!" yuji takes his sister's hand and leads her to satoru, who was somewhere at the entrance of the airport, leaning against the wall.

to say he was infatuated by her was an understatement, hell, he was enamoured by the woman who stood before him. she was short, her hair shone a strawberry pink like her brother's, her eyes, oh her eyes were beautiful, they shone like a pair of gems, and her smile, they were so bright and warm, almost like the gentle rays of the sun. she stood out from the rest of the crowd.

"hi! you must be yuji's sensei. i'm (____) itadori, his big sister. nice to meet you..uhm, sorry what was your name again?" you greeted with a smile, small dimples showing on each side of your cheek as you held out your hand for him to shake.

your voice snapped him out of his euphoria, it sounded so angelic, he wanted to hear your voice everyday. satoru's mind felt absent as he looked down at you, you were really more beautiful than he had imagined you to be.

"sensei?" yuji queried with concern, making satoru shake his head, that same charming and handsome smirk appearing on his face (he was nervous). "sorry sorry, nice to meet you too, miss (____). i'm satoru gojo." he held his hand out as well, meeting yours, his hand was larger than your hand, almost swallowing it whole.

you smiled as you shook hands with him, feeling a small electric spark when your skin came in contact with one another, though you paid no mind to it.

"yuji has told me all about you, mr. gojo! thank you kindly for taking care of my brother. How could I possibly repay your kindness?" you said with a slight bow, making satoru feel slightly embarrassed  (for the first time ever). "no need, i was just doing my job as a teacher." replies satoru, clearing his throat. his adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows. hard. why was he so nervous in the presence of this woman who he just met? he was so used to flirting with other girls (despite being a virgin) but.. you. you made him nervous.

"oh I insist, mr. gojo!" you chuckled, lifting your head up, straightening your posture. yuji tugged at your sleeves, making you look at your little brother. "what is it, yuji?" you ask, tilting your head sideways. cute: satoru thought. "i'll go to the bathroom for a bit" yuji says quietly, earning a nod of acknowledgement from his sister. "sensei" yuji gives him a thumbs up before rushing to the nearby restrooms of the airport.

"well that was something" satoru laughs as he stands there, quite awkwardly now that he's left alone with you out of all people. you on the other hand, only laughed at his awkward response. "now, back to my statement: how can i repay you for taking care of my brother, mr. gojo?" you ask once again, you were stubborn like your brother, almost.

satoru comes up with an absurd idea in mind, he hesitates, this was going to be a bad idea. "your number," satoru responds, his throat becoming dry from the sheer nervousness he was feeling. "you can repay me by giving me your number, miss (____)." he continues, it was insane how he was able to keep his smirk up despite his palms beginning to sweat.

you were silent for a moment, your cheeks becoming rosy by each passing second. it wasn't always you encountered a man who was bold and smooth enough to ask for your number, and actually become successful at it. you chuckled as a response, your chuckle coming out as embarrassed instead of happily as originally intended. "really now?" you whisper, your index finger scratching your cheek lightly, before you came up with an idea.

you rummaged through your backpack, finding a thin black marker in one of its pockets. "that's a pretty bold move you got there, mr. gojo" you bite back a smile as you take his left hand and begins to write your number on his palm, you looked so adorable in his eyes, with your half-lidded gaze concentrated on writing the numbers on his skin, your visibly rosy cheeks, and your hair that was annoyingly in the way of letting him see your face in all its glory.

slowly, satoru lifts his free hand up to tuck a thick strand of your pink hair behind your ear, since it was in the way. a seemingly harmless action yet it made you divert your attention from his palm, to his face with slightly wide eyes, and suddenly, your gaze felt like a spotlight, it was as if you were looking at him like he was the only man in the world.

you clear your throat, stepping back to give him his space, and then put your black marker back in your bag, eyes studying the numbers that you wrote on his palm. "there"  you say simply, with a small smile. satoru stands there, seemingly in a state of euphoria for a moment before shaking his head, cerulean blue eyes looking down at the black ink drawn on his skin through his blindfold. a lopsided smirk appearing on his face. "now for some reason, i feel quite special to have a cute girl's number in my contact list. thank you, miss (____)." he responds, his smirk turning into a cheeky grin as he stuffs his left hand in his pocket, careful not to smudge the ink on his palm. after all this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.

in return, you huff out a laugh. "(____)'s fine, mr. gojo." you chime in, your voice seemed so soft to him.

"i'm back!" yuji yells, catching the attention of the two adults as her runs back from the restrooms. "why don't we grab a meal? my treat" you say, smiling at the two boys, in which yuji returns with an excited nod. "i don't mind, but it will be my treat, i insist." satoru offered, "oh no need, mr. gojo. i insist." you reply,

"i insist, miss (____)"

"no, i insist, mr. gojo!"

"why don't we just divide the bill?" chimed yuji, making the two adults that stood in front of him think for a moment before coming to a conclusion.

"oh alright, that seems fair." you nod, looking up at satoru, the man nods as well. "then it's settled, let's go!" satoru grins excitedly, staring down at yuji and back to you.

"let's go! i'm starving!" yuji groans, taking the first step forward, and you smile at your younger brother, a sweet, nostalgic smile.

satoru swears to himself that he was going to win your heart, your soul, all of you. you were perfect from head to toe.

and he sure as hell isn't gonna let someone like you go.

— Mayven.

[theshadowsingersraven]

I don't understand why people are so adamant about the idea that SJM would/could change her entire writing style, love for fated mates, and patterns for Elain and Elain only.

Like, why? Why does everyone suddenly care about the "ethics" of a mating bond or the "wants of the character" just when it comes to Elain? Why do people suddenly stop loving fated mates, forced proximity, strangers to lovers, etc. when it comes to Elain? Why do people suddenly believe that her love story with her mate could overshadow her own growth and development when that didn't happen with Feyre or Nesta?

I don't understand why people in this fanbase treat Elain with this random ""autonomy"" that was never given to Feyre or Nesta. It's giving such infantilization for a character that these people swear up and down is underestimated (true) and yet they do the exact same thing the Inner Circle does, but in real life.

"Elain doesn't like Lucien!"

1. We don't know that. We don't have her POV, and she's only ever said that she doesn't want a mate, not that she has an issue with Lucien. We need her POV to know for certain how she feels. If you don't think we need that and her "body language" or "observable reactions" are enough, respectfully, nothing you say about Elain is going to be worth my time. If you can't acknowledge that a character can have more complex internal feelings that don't match her external expressions, especially considering how Nesta and Feyre behaved with their mates prior, then I don't want to hear any of your analysis. It seems surface-level at best, and I'm not interested in starting and ending character analysis at their surface-level, external behaviors.

2. Okay, say for instance that she doesn't like Lucien.

And?

Did we not all read Feyre going through not one but two enemies to lovers, forced proximity dynamics with both Tamlin and then Rhysand?

Feyre quite literally referred to Tamlin as her captor, and built traps in her room because she didn't feel safe in his manor.

Did any one of those same people give nearly as much of a shit that she didn't like either of them or wring their hands about it to this degree?

I can tell you one thing: I shipped Feylin during ACOTAR and then Feysand during ACOMAF, as I'm sure plenty of people did, too. And a majority of these people adore Feysand.

What about Nessian during ACOFAS and ACOSF?

Did any one of them give a shit that Nesta didn't have a "choice" either when SJM wrote a forced proximity love story for her character? When Nesta kept pushing away Cassian and told him to leave her alone? And Cassian believed that she wanted nothing to do with him? Shouldn't that greatly upset those people?

It didn't upset me because I like enemies to lovers and forced proximity tropes. I didn't question the morals of ethics of the tropes or the mating bond during their book. And if those same people didn't either, then I raise them all, as well as generally most of the fanbase this question:

Who cares if Elain doesn't like Lucien? Elain is a fictional character written by a fated mates and enemies-to-lovers author.

Like...what do you guys think you're reading? Do you not expect her character to change and evolve and thus feel differently about things?

I'm tired of these lukewarm, inconsistent takes that only prove that people just don't want her to be with Lucien because he isn't "as hot" (when everyone in the series remarks on how handsome Lucien is) or broody like Azriel is. I'm tired of people projecting themselves onto Elain and claim that they want what "she wants" when not a single one of us know for sure what she wants, and it's just an excuse for people to feel "correct" or "just" in their preference.

Everyone wants something for Elain if you have skin in the game for her endgame ship. Because you have to. Elain will never be able to choose her endgame for herself because she is a character, and SJM or fanfic authors writing her decide for her.

That is just how writing works. Love to break it to you.

Yes, she wanted Azriel at one point. But he rejected her by calling their almost-kiss a mistake, and then she gave back the necklace. There are no interactions between them on page after this.

We no longer know for certain what Elain "wants". We only have the last time SJM put on page what Elain currently feels toward Azriel and Lucien from other character's point of view.

Elain's character deserves better than the infantilizing stans that treat her as if she's somehow so beleaguered and victimized. She's not. She's a character with trauma, just like her sisters. She's a character that people will villianize or adore, just like her sisters. She's a character that gets both warranted and unfair criticism, just like her sisters. She's just a character.

Everyone's love or appreciation or disdain for her is real, but Elain herself will never be real. And some people really, really need to internalize this.

[soundspeachytome]

dusty and fraulein (shohei ohtani au)

summary: your asshole cat falls in love with your new next-door neighbor and takes shelter in his front porch while displacing his poor dog, dusty, and a whole lot of chaos in between ensues.

tropes: enemies to lovers, next door neighbor dynamics, dog parent x cat parent, fake dating, small town romance, pure, pure fluff and romance only.

word count: 11.2k

this is far from my original writing style but i hope you have fun reading as much as i had writing this! (if there are any inconsistencies, sorry in advance!)

other notes: i had patterned the two characters loosely after lorelai and luke and stars hollow as the town. *swoon!*

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

=================================

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You squint through the harsh back light of your phone and see the time: 8:47 AM. It is barely brunch and you hear loud music and conversation from outside your bedroom window. You pull the covers over your head and try to go back to sleep but the sound of a hammer being pounded on wood disrupts your journey back to dreamland. 

It also doesn’t help that your head also feels like someone is drilling it into concrete. For a split second, you wonder why you even let that much alcohol enter your system on a Friday night, and why no one stopped you when you were such a lightweight. You try to remember the events from the night before and then it hits you: you caught your boyfriend–now ex!--sexting with an intern at his office through the messages on his phone. You were not the type to scour through your boyfriends’ phones but it was supposed to be dinner date night with pasta and Sauvignon Blanc when Jack’s phone lit up from the kitchen counter. You were busy preparing cutlery when the phone dinged again. You thought it was important from work and since you had been very open and comfortable with each after a year of dating, taking a peek would not hurt. 

Nothing could have prepared you for what you saw. 

Jack, despite being a successful finance analyst, the smart, bookish type, the one who can compute numbers in his head in about 5 seconds or less, apparently was not smart enough to keep his notifications hidden or at least try and cover them up like a serial cheater would. Not that you  wanted him hiding anything from you, but at that moment, seeing the thirst traps and the disgusting follow-up sexts from his notifications bar were enough for you to hurl his precious PS5 from the fifth floor of his apartment building and leave the crime scene with the wine and pasta in tow. 

You don’t know what happened after because you left while he was still in the shower, his apartment thrashed, with a note which you left that says, “For the record, I faked all my orgasms during our sexy time. Veronica ❤️ seems to love your *mini* performance though! PS. If you’re looking for your PS5, try looking down from the balcony, asshole.”

Love is a lie, you scoffed. You let the remnants of last night’s hurt consume you for a little bit more and cry under the covers. You cried until your eyes tired, until the weight of your head felt heavier than a bowling ball. You thought about staying in bed for a few more minutes when a boisterous laughter interrupted your thoughts. The laugh was followed by incomprehensible sentences. The voice came from a man probably in his late twenties, deep, jovial and friendly. You couldn’t make out the words from this distance but he sounded like he was giving instructions, volume fading in and out every now and then. Then more manly laughter. You didn’t know why but this person had a distinct laugh that you found very pleasant. You wonder somberly if you could laugh like that again. 

You jolted upright and went for the door. You will definitely be happy again soon but first, coffee. 

The best hangover fix is a steaming cup of coffee with a plate of bacon and pancakes. You poured yourself a hot mug of coffee and suddenly felt unstoppable, like you’re actually happy, at least temporarily. The pounding in your head has subsided but the drilling from nextdoor hasn’t. You must have new neighbors, the way you’re seeing movers coming in and out of the moving truck parked outside. You tried to catch a glimpse of this neighbor causing all the ruckus but were unsuccessful as the trees lined beside your porch were covering your line of vision. From behind you, you felt your cat, Fraulein, bump her head on your ankles, purring audibly.

“Looks like the new neighbors woke you up too, huh?” She yawned and continued looking up at you. 

Fraulein, a female American shorthair of three years, stood around nine pounds with her stocky legs and long, proportioned tail. Her fur was a thick orange coat with faint white stripes covering most of her body. She was nameless when you picked her up from the animal shelter. She was barely five months old at that time and despite being smaller than the other cats, she had snuggled up to you when you reached for a pet. When you scratched her head and heard her purr loudly, you knew right then and there that she was the one for you. She was the friendliest, clingiest and most loveable thing you have in your life, and despite her “orange cat personality” as most people had dubbed, you wouldn’t replace her with anything in the world, not even for your hound dog-looking ex, Jack. 

She did a big stretch as you picked her up while you stood idly by the window. As you stared outside, Fraulein’s purring sending you in a trance, you suddenly notice a pair of eyes looking up at you from the front lawn. Those eyes should not be there, and more importantly, the pair of eyes belonged to a dog standing just mere inches from your flowering shrubs, tail wagging. If this dog takes another step, they could ruin the gardenias you’ve been trying to grow. 

You step outside and try to shoo the dog away when it suddenly jumps and barks. 

“Hey! Get away from my garden!” You try to stay calm as the dog continues to bark and come playfully near the shrubs. Your heart sinks when his paw accidentally steps on the stems of your peonies. You’ve been meaning to pluck them this week so you can replace the wilted ones from your vase. 

“Oh my god… Please go away! Shoo!” You desperately waved the dog away but it continued to jump excitedly and roll around, probably thinking you were out there to play. Fraulein, who was still in your arms the entire time, started getting restless and was hissing at the dog’s direction, her untucked claws boring into your skin. That’s when you saw a man, probably over six feet tall, rushing towards the dog. He had thick black hair and the widest shoulders you’ve ever seen. 

“Oh my god, Dusty! What are you doing here…” He put a leash on the dog, whose name was probably Dusty, as you have heard, and carried him with one arm. 

“I’m so so sorry! I was inside the house and I didn’t realize Dusty escaped from his leash.” His big brown eyes complemented well against his slightly tanned skin. With your obvious height difference, you had to look up at him from a distance without hurting your neck. 

“He almost ruined my flowers,” You started to say, eyes still locked in his. If you hadn’t forced yourself to look towards your garden, you would have been sucked into his creamy brown orbs. 

You assessed the garden from the mini scuffle. There was a bit of overturned soil from some of the shrubs, especially from the peonies getting the most damage. The stems have been slightly bent, almost breaking from where it stood. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m sosososorry! I didn’t mean to–I mean, Dusty’s still young, he’s very playful and…” 

“I was planning on cutting them this week, anyway. Your dog has to stay away from my garden, though.” I pointed at the lopsided peonies, almost looking like they have their hands up in the air, waving sideways.

He looked so apologetic that he almost looked like it was his fault. He tightened his grip on his dog, Dusty, who looked so small and well-behaved being cradled by a big-bodied man. Meanwhile, Fraulein has not relaxed one bit after that quick garden mess and had her claws out, clinging to my threadbare sweater.

“Yes ma’am, I’ll keep a tight leash on her. I’m Shohei Ohtani, by the way. We just moved next door, so I guess we’re neighbors now. I’d offer my hand right now, but I’m afraid Dusty would jump out of my grip. ”

Now that you are able to look at his face carefully, you realize that he was fairly handsome. Correctly proportioned face, dreamy brown eyes, and a smile that invited first love butterflies kind of vibe. He was also tall and definitely bulky over that black long-sleeved sweater that was folded up to his elbows. You could tell he dedicates a good amount of time to his body.

“So that explains all this noise so early in the morning.” You say with an almost sarcastic tone of voice. You didn’t mean it and you were willing to forgive them for the morning ruckus but the garden mishap and the mini-heart attack you had for your plants had somehow added to the list of how-to-piss-your-neighbor-on-the-first-day. And you’re really bad at moving past your first impressions of other people. 

“Are all cat people always this cranky in the morning?” He commented cheekily, displaying a playful expression in his eyes. This man named Shohei is trying to get to you and it’s definitely working. For a first conversation, it surely is getting on your nerves to be read so openly, and in your own premises, at that. 

“Excuse me?”

“It’s just an observation. Cat people seemed to be more emotionally charged than dog people.” He said matter-of-factly and continued to smile. He’s handsome but he’s also starting to be annoying as hell. What does he mean by that? Does he want to show off that dog people are better than cat people? 

“Well. If we’re going to talk about stereotypes here then I must say dog people are careless people-pleasers who hogs the attention and only cares about being liked and do not give a rat’s ass on taking up other people’s space and boundaries. I’d also offer to shake my hand but I’m afraid my cat right here might scratch your dog’s face for ruining our morning.” You stared hard at him and slowly backed away, returning to your porch steps.

“Nice to meet you, too, I guess! I would suggest chamomile tea and tone down on coffee!” He waved cheerfully, as he exited the lawn and walked towards his home. You turned your heel and slammed the door shut loud enough for him to hear. Fraulein jumped out of your grip and mewed almost as angrily. She darted toward the kitchen and went out of sight. 

“What a weirdo… If Fraulein doesn’t like him then I don’t have to like him, too.” You muttered to yourself and moved to the bathroom to take a shower. 

You spent your afternoon in the garden, watering and cutting the flowers in full bloom. You wore your oldest t-shirts with a print that says “I Wet My Plants” under your pink square overalls and a sun hat to protect you from the sun. You were listening to your beloved Birdy mix on your headphones as you tended the prettiest flowers in your garden, muting the noise of the world.

I know I was stupid to let what we had go to waste

Why does everything I love always get taken away?

Ghost in the wind calling you to take me home

Ghost in the wind crying, where do I belong?

Can anyone hear me now?

Can anyone hear me now?

“Can you hear me, Y/N?”

“Agh!”

You almost jumped out of your skin when a hand touched you lightly in the arm. It was Patrick Sandoval, your high school best friend, and sometimes main supplier of Fraulein’s flea medicine. You forgot that he was visiting today.

“Whoa! Extra jumpy today?” he smiled his Colgate-white smile and cocked his head to the side. “Coffee overload, again?”

Suddenly you remembered what your new neighbor had said during your first encounter this morning. Naturally cranky… Tone down on the coffee… He had no idea to be assuming things like that, not when you had just literally met.

“Jack cheated on me and I was hungover, okay?” You grit your teeth through the mention of your ex. Like the stench of his name made the bile climb up your throat. “I decimated his PS5 into tiny cracked pieces.”

“Oh, shit, man.. I’m proud of you.” He put you in a half-embrace and patted your head. “Do you need me to break his legs for you?”

You giggled, arm still locked around his waist. “No, but I took one of his expensive wines so that evens that out for me, I think. I don’t care.”

Patrick looks at you and wonders if he arrived too late today. He notices the dark bags under your eyes and your puffy face, probably a result of crying all night. He wondered if you had been crying all morning, too. He couldn’t help but lean in and give you a full, bear hug.

“Just let me know if you need us to file a restraining order, babygirl.” You snorted and buried your face under his embrace, thankful for the assurance. Patrick has always been your rock since high school. When your first boyfriend ditched you in prom, Patrick was there to rescue you when he wasn’t initially supposed to go; you ended the night with stomachs full of pizza, sparkling soda and belly laughter.

You and Patrick had been for each other’s rarest moments throughout adulthood: gushing about your first times, your first heartbreaks, getting into college, graduation… you even wondered if both of you are just teetering from the sidelines, waiting for each other to do the first move. You always brush the thought away because to do that means risking your friendship with him. You don’t want to lose him, not even as a friend.

“By the way, I’m just here to drop these medicines for dear ol’ Frau that you asked.” He lifted a paper bag with a cute animal picture and his pet shop name printed across it. Paw and Order.

 “Thanks, Patrick. I could’ve picked them up if you called.” Patrick has been the sole pet doctor in town which contributed solely to his success. Seeing how much people nowadays prefer taking pets instead of bearing children, he took the opportunity to put up his own pet shop and clinic; you and Fraulein have been number one customers ever since.

“It’s my pleasure, milady.” He did an elegant bow, to which I returned a curtsy, and giggled. “I’m also here to let you know that I’ll be on a business trip for two weeks. So this will be sort of my goodbye.”

“What kind of business trip takes two weeks long?” You don’t really want him to leave, especially with the holidays approaching, you had planned to spend it all with him.

“The kind where your father wants you to venture to a new business spot and spend the holidays with him and his new family.” He shrugged and looked at you, hoping you’d stop him from the impending family mess he’s about to go to, but you only scrunched your nose.

“That sucks, man. You’ll miss all the fruitcakes.” 

“I know, dude.” He pouted. “How are Frau's fleas, by the way? Did the medicine work last time?” 

“Sure did, she’s better now. Speaking of which, where is that old hag?” You haven’t seen her since early morning’s commotion. The last time you saw her she was napping by the window of your bedroom.

“Just call me if you notice anything weird. The medicines should be enough while I’m gone.” 

“Leaving already?”

“First thing in the morning, bub.” He said. “I’ll miss you.”

“Frau and I will miss you, too!” And the two of you embraced in another warm hug. When you both pulled back, he helped you pick up the basket of freshly bloomed flowers you had collected for the day and went back inside the house. You had given him the extra jar of lemon iced tea you’ve been saving for a particularly warm day like this. 

~~~

It’s been a whole day that you haven’t seen Fraulein. She usually wanders off hours in a day but she always returns by dinner time. You were starting to worry as the sky slowly turned pitch black. The lampposts turn on, illuminating the streets. You turn the porch lights on, too, and leave her bowl of food and water by the doorstep, in case she decides to come home late into the night. 

~~~~

You wake up to a high-pitched yowling outside. You’re not exactly sure where but you know that sound from anywhere. You bolted down the stairs with your sleeping robe undone and ran towards the lawn. You can’t see anything until you hear it again.

“Nyreooow!”

Soon, a dog howls and you run towards Shohei Ohtani’s house.

You see Fraulein perched on top of Shohei’s porch, her entire back arched defensively, ears twitching backwards. She was hissing at Dusty, who was whimpering loudly below the porch steps and looking terrified. In your panic, you run to the lawn to pick Fraulein up.

“Fraulein! What are you doing here?” 

Dusty continued to bark loudly, trying to come near the door where Fraulein stood. She hissed menacingly at him.

At that exact moment, Shohei Ohtani emerged from the front door, yawning and trying to get sleep out of his eyes. 

“Whazhapeninhere?” He yawned, looking clearly disoriented from suddenly waking up.

“Your dog is trying to attack my cat!” I yelled, trying to go near Fraulein but stepped back as Dusty blocked your way. 

Shohei popped awake as soon as he heard Fraulein hiss at Dusty once more; Fraulein arched her back more and raised her claws in defense.

“Whoa, hey!” Shohei ran up to Dusty and cradled him in his arms like a baby. Poor dog was shaking and whimpering.

“Are you sure it’s not your cat trying to attack my baby?” He raised his voice. He was standing a few feet away from you and looked you up and down, noticing your loose sleeping robe and looking away. 

“Poor baby getting scared by a cat,” He cooed silently, helping Dusty relax.

You walked up the porch when Fraulein hissed and scratched your arms when you picked her up. She wriggled from your grasp but conceded defeat when you scruffed her by the neck, immobilizing her. 

“I don’t know what’s happening here, but please stay away from my cat.” You looked at both Shohei and Dusty sternly. He noticed the scratches on your hands.

“You’re bleeding.” He started.

You looked down on your hands and saw visible red scratch marks. They started from the middle of your arm all the way to the back of your hand.

“I’m fine.” You huffed, trying to walk away as fast as possible. You don’t know what time it was, but it could easily be past midnight. 

“No, wait. Please, I have antiseptic soap inside…” He rushed towards the house, when he looked back and saw you frozen on the steps, he beckoned you and disappeared inside. “Come on.”

You stood there for a moment and contemplated if you should follow Shohei inside. You barely know the guy and every encounter you’ve had with him always ended in a screaming match or a passive-aggressive exchange. He might even be an ax murderer for all you know. A very handsome one, at that. 

“Frau, if something happens to me, please know that I love you.” You held her near your face. “Third drawer by the sink is where I kept all your catnip”. You whispered to her ear and walked towards Shohei Ohtani’s home.

~~~

Shohei Ohtani’s home was, first of all, very clean. It did not reek of anything a dog owner normally would smell like. It had the occasional puppy toys around the living room, but much to your surprise, it was spotless. It also smelled like sweet rose and laundry detergent. You also discovered that just like you, he lives alone. 

Shohei had put Dusty inside a retractable gate to keep him safe from Fraulein as you put her down on the floor. He busied himself looking for his first aid kit. You don’t notice any other pictures on display except him and Dusty and one with his complete family on the refrigerator door. 

His tall frame reappears and he pulls you towards the kitchen sink. You soak your arms under the water and he hands you the antiseptic soap.

“Thanks,” You mumbled. He never left your side and waited until you finished rinsing off, then took your arm and put cream on the scratch marks. He was standing unbelievably close, you could almost see his long eyelashes as he had his head down, concentrating on his self-appointed task. 

He also had his other hand holding you tight, as if to make sure you won’t run off suddenly. 

“I have these at home, you know.” You trained your eyes on his fingers dabbing cream. Don’t look at his arm veins, Y/N. Don’t look at them. Don’t look. Don’t.

“Oh, gee. Why didn’t I think of that?” He mused to which you rolled your eyes. Once again, the magic had worn off. 

“Do you really have to sound sarcastic all the time?”

“C’mon, lighten up.  Besides, it happened on my property so I feel partially responsible–even if it was your cat’s fault.” He shrugged.

You coughed at his accusation. “Fraulein does not instigate fights. She is well-mannered and prim all the time, thank you very much.” You pulled your cream-covered arm away from him. Just then, you notice Fraulein bumping her head on Shohei’s legs, mewling softly.

“How would you then explain the fact where your cat steals Dusty’s bed from the front porch?” He said, crossing his arm, Fraulein on the other hand, was still headbutting Shohei on the legs.

“Oh, she did not.” You retorted. Why would she steal someone’s fray-looking bed when she has her beautiful beige 2-condo tree tower with a capsule nest and dangling balls and a charming basket-weave style oval bed at home? It didn’t make sense. “She only sleeps in the beds I bought her.”

Shohei gives you a funny look and fishes his phone from his pocket. “Well, you’re in for quite a shock, I guess.”

He shoves the phone to you after tinkering with it for a while. “That’s your cat at 30:56 right?”

You look closely, a bit disoriented at what he was trying to show you. CCTV recorded footage of his porch outside where his dog, Dusty, was sitting in his dog bed, playing with his puppy chew ball, when suddenly, you saw Fraulein enter the frame from the left. 

“It doesn’t show anything.” You impatiently looked on, disbelief and denial dripping from you. 

“Oh just you wait.” 

Fraulein was moving slowly, watching Dusty and his toy. A few minutes pass by, the video captures Shohei exiting the front door and Dusty follows him playfully, at which, the dog bed was obviously vacated, and Fraulein took the opportunity to lay on it. 

Shohei cops the phone away and crosses his arms across his chest. “The court finds the defendant guilty.”

It took you a moment but gasped dramatically at the realization. “Was she here the entire day yesterday? Napping on your dog’s bed?” You looked at Fraulein with sheer disapproval. “Fraulein von Hammersmark, that is not how female felines behave.”

Shohei stifled a laugh. He was leaning over his stomach and ears red. “Relax. I don’t mind at all. I think Dusty does, though.” He picks up Fraulein calmly and gives her  scratches on her head. Fraulein purrs loudly. 

“She has been napping here all day since morning and seems to enjoy watching her new neighbor work out in the front lawn.” 

You grimaced, making sure you showed him your disgust. “Ew, weird flex but okay.”

Dusty whimpers as he looks at the scene from outside his gate. You walk over and give him a light pat on the head. “Dusty, blink once if you need help.” 

“Oh, please.” He giggles. “I’m not the weird one for naming my cat Fraulein von Hammersomething.” Shohei returns Fraulein to you, your arms touching, his head closer to yours momentarily. 

“Y/N. I wonder what the weather is on your side. You want to wear something warmer than that?” He pointed at your loose sleeping gown, your legs showing a little bit of your thigh. A little more movement and the knots would dangerously slip out of your waist and reveal your lingerie. 

“Pervert.” You instinctively covered your chest and ran back home, arms carrying Fraulein and the weight of shame for being almost half-naked inside a strange man’s house. 

~~~~

The next few days after that incident were spent with writing articles for an obscure lifestyle website and your part-time work at the bookstore in town, Novel Nook. You ride a 30 minute bus ride to the town square everyday for work and wait 15 minutes in line to grab a cup of coffee from the coffee shop beside it. It doesn’t feel like work at all because you are always surrounded by the books that you love. It took you a long time to realize that working 9-5 in an office cubicle with ugly fluorescent lighting was deteriorating your mental headspace and when your mom passed, you jumped the gun and submitted your intent to resign.

You removed all the baggage you kept from the city and only brought the ones that mattered to you: your cat, your big books, some pretty clothes you never wore in the city but are wearing freely and confidently now, and your memories of your mom. You flew seven thousand miles back home to the place you were meant to be all this time, and you couldn’t be happier and more content. 

You were walking sluggishly back home from a tiring day at work at Novel Nook where two teenagers fought for the last copy of The Hurricane Wars and it took all your energy to de-escalate before they could start pulling each other’s hair. You can’t wait to kick your boots back, hug Fraulein and maybe continue reading a book. 

Your house is on the opposite side of the bus stop so you always (almost begrudgingly) have to pass by Shohei’s house every time. Sometimes it would be quiet with Dusty playing alone on the porch, or Shohei having a barbecue and would always cheerfully waving at you while you just give him a brief nod. Recently, you’ve grown accustomed to seeing Fraulein hanging out in his place more often than you have imagined. She’s like a teenage girl rebelling against her overbearing mother, hanging out with the wrong crowd. After that incident with Dusty, she has claimed dominance on his bed, Shohei had no choice but to buy a new one for his poor dog, while Fraulein smugly walks around in her new territory. 

You had developed some sort of weird neighbor-dynamic with Shohei after that. On days Fraulein had to take her medicine shots that Patrick had given you, you’d walk towards his house and pick her up like some sort of pet daycare. Shohei likes to call it “daddy daycare” as if you’re two divorced parents and he is the cool dad that all the kids love hanging with while you’re the uptight, overbearing mother with full custody and all, that the kids hate. 

“Fraulein, your mom’s here.” Shohei said one day, looking up from his laptop which was perched on the table he had set up on his porch, sitting adjacent to Fraulein. Dusty was chewing on his toy, as usual, and perked up a welcome upon seeing you. 

Fraulein stands and stretches her back and sits back again resting on Shohei’s foot, to which Shohei smirks almost smugly. “She loves her dad more, it seems.”

You roll your eyes and pick up Fraulein. “Stop calling yourself her dad before I burn your house down.”

“Ooh, an arsonist for a neighbor. That’s so sexy, Y/N.” He looked you up and down and wiggled his eyebrows. “You’re too cute to go to jail, though. How about going out with me instead?”

“Piss off. C’mon, Fraulein, time for medicine.” You turned and walked back to your home, trying to keep a straight face at the being called cute with Shohei. You’re too cute. You made the mistake of looking back as you turned to your corner and saw Shohei grinning at you.

This day would be no different as you passed by Shohei’s house today and saw Fraulein napping at the exact same place on his porch. He was working out doing ab crunches on the ground. You decided today, you wouldn’t dare to go on another episode of sarcasm battle with Shohei and go straight home. He was wearing workout clothes of course, with his gym shorts and sleeveless shirt, for all the temptations in the world, this one, you had proudly resisted and warded off like the devil. 

You found Dusty on your lawn, sitting by the patch of grass far from your flowers, thankfully, and staring far ahead into the direction of your home. You patted him and tried to get his attention. Ever since being displaced by Fraulein, he had been giving you frequent visits and play in your yard and you’d give him treats from your secret stash.

“Hey, bud. Were you waiting for me?” He ignored you and continued to look on.

By the door, you can see a tall black figure standing, unmoving. It was a man in a black suit with hands in his pockets. When he turns around, you see a familiar face.  

“No,” You whispered. Jack smiles at you and waves, as if nothing had happened almost a month ago. As if he was just returning from a business trip. Like cheating on you was nothing.

You started panicking and heaving heavily. Dusty senses your fear and barks at Jack when he slowly walks over to you. 

Dusty continued to growl and bark at Jack while you tried to move backward, feet heavy like lead. 

“Stop, don’t come near me, Jack.” you struggled.

“Y/N, I’m here to apologize, for whatever happened, for whatever it made you feel.” He was still slowly walking towards you, eyeing Dusty carefully.

“We have nothing to talk about anymore, Jack. It’s over, in case you forgot.”

“I said come here, you bitch.” He growled. 

At this point, you only realized you were shaking terribly when a hand wrapped on your shoulder, calming you down.

“Are you okay?” It was Shohei’s voice and you have never felt so relieved to hear his voice. You weakly put your arm around his waist and leaned on him. You were still shaking badly, from the exhaustion, or the fear, you couldn’t tell. 

“Is everything okay?” Shohei acknowledges Jack who stopped at around five feet from where you were. 

“We were just discussing something… private.” Jack shifts his eyes between you and Shohei, who was sizing him up and down. Between Shohei, who stood over six feet tall, bulky, and ripped, and Jack, just around five foot nine, body somewhat lean and lanky, Jack didn’t stand a chance. 

Realizing this, you found more comfort and confidence in your plan. You looked up to see Shohei still trying to converse with Jack while keeping a firm arm around you. 

“Shohei.” He looked at you cautiously and tightened his grip on your shoulder. 

Please promise me that you won’t get mad at what I’m about to do.

“What is it, Y/N? Who is this guy?” he said.

“He’s my ex who I want nothing to do with.” He straightened his back but you pulled him by the neck so you could whisper in his ear.

“I’m so sorry, Shohei.” 

“I’m not sure I understand–” He tilted his head in confusion. Jack starts moving forward again, looking almost pissed by just looking at you and Shohei. 

With Shohei still leaning forward, you desperately grabbed his cheeks and pecked him square on the lips. 

Shock induces both Shohei’s and Jack’s faces when you pull back, eyes focused on Jack and hoping to God he’d get the message. Wild red alarms blared and rang loudly in your head, you just kissed Shohei, your hot and annoying neighbor! You just kissed him! You ignored this and focused on the problem at hand. 

“He’s my boyfriend, Jack. Please leave now–” 

Shohei recovers from his shock and kisses you back in bigger, wider and longer strokes of his tongue. The tremors in your body shook harder and you felt your limbs melt into a puddle of water. Shohei’s big warm hands were there to catch you as your knees unbuckled. 

You kissed back and forgot everything that was happening in the background. Dusty barking, Jack’s shell-shocked face, the vehicles passing by the street witnessing your spectacle. You ignored all of this and focused on the way Shohei holds on to your body from your neck, to your back until it rests to the back of your waist, gripping tight, his firm and taut body pressing hard onto you, and his lips sliding over yours so smoothly, stimulating all the senses in your tongue and mouth. 

You don’t know how many seconds passed when you stayed inside that bubble but when you both pulled back for air, Jack was no longer there and Dusty had stopped barking. Instead, he just sat quietly on the ground, waiting for you to finish. 

You stared at Shohei and you stared back at him. Your hand was still on his neck, half-gripping the nape. You slowly let go and pull away. It’s always after the sin that you feel the shame and guilt. 

He doesn’t let go and instead takes you by the shoulder. “Come inside first and we’ll talk.”

You nod wordlessly and follow his lead. You couldn’t walk properly anyway, so you didn’t want to fight back. Your knees felt like jelly and your brain full of fog. That was hot, you thought, but also very wrong.

You sat at Shohei’s dining table chugging a glass of water. By the time you finished, he sat there in front of you and continued looking at you intensely.

In your post-kiss and post-Jack clarity, you’re now too embarrassed to admit the way you handled that situation. But Shohei, being Shohei, seemed unfazed. For the most part, he found it amusing to be part of your ex-boyfriend escape plan, of all the people. 

“A man never listens to a no,” You were too focused on the rim of the glass. You want to look anywhere but Shohei’s mouth. “And I was desperate for him to get away… so I did.. That.”

“Y/N, you were trembling out there. What exactly has he done to you?” He removed the glass from your grip and made you focus on him.

“He… I… He’s an asshole when he gets angry. And I was just scared I wouldn't be able to refuse him. I don’t want him anymore.”

“For someone as arrogant and snappish as you, that’s pretty hard to believe.” You rolled your eyes at him and smirked, lips looking luscious and fuller than the last time. 

“Look, I was probably having a panic attack back there, and I’m okay now, see?” You spread your arms widely, faking a smile at him. You’d like this conversation to end so you could run back to your house and ram your head to the wall. The more you stay in Shohei’s presence, the more embarrassed you feel about wanting and enjoying that kiss. You did. You do. And you want more. 

“I wanted an easy way out, you happened to be there and I grabbed the moment.” You rambled on. “And that kiss, it was just a one-time thing.”

“A one-time thing?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, it was a mistake. We don’t even like each other to kiss, so we can forget about it.”

“Is that right?” His lips curled into a smirk.

“Yes, tomorrow, we act like it never happened, okay?” You stood up and started collecting yourself. You hang by the door and look back, Shohei had his arms crossed against his chest, staring at you. 

“I don’t know, Y/N. That seems pretty unforgettable to me.”

~~~~~

The following morning, you woke up early to visit the farmer's market to replenish your cupboard. You wore black tights over your long beige dress and a gray cardigan. You put your hair down in loose waves today and replaced your contacts with your old prescription eyeglasses. 

Sprawled in front of you were tents and tables of farmers and sellers of freshly harvested fruits and vegetables to your heart’s content. Almost everyone you knew from town was there on a bright day like this. You said your hellos and some, who were avid customers of Novel Nook, asked about the new book releases. Since it is a fairly small town, it is inevitable to spot the ones that you direly wanted to avoid. For example, your ex-boyfriend Jack. 

He was standing one tent away and seemed to just idly window-shopping. You put your head down and try not to meet his gaze or look at his direction as you busy yourself looking through a good bunch of tomatoes. 

“Hey, Y/N.” You put your guard down and suddenly he is in front of you. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Trying to… buy some tomatoes?” He sneered, holding a tomato in his hand. “I don’t see your boyfriend around.”

“I…He’s… Can you please stop following me?” Cold sweat ran through your spine as he noticed you fumble, noticing your lie. 

“Lest you forget, I live here, too.” 

“Not in this side of town, you don’t.” You walked away with the bag of tomatoes you purchased. You moved quickly and avoided the throng of people that was starting to build up. 

“I just want us to talk… Y/N. You didn’t give me a chance to explain yesterday.” He continued to follow you, hands behind his back. He was obviously not there to buy tomatoes. 

“I don’t want to see you anymore. Leave me alone or I’ll call the police.” You looked at him sternly, hand gripping tightly on the basket you were holding. One false move and you just might smash his head with a whole pineapple. 

“No boyfriend to come save you now?” Jack chuckled. 

“There you are.” A familiar voice sprung up from behind, and a hand snaked around your waist. Shohei was suddenly beside you, holding on to his own basket of shopping bags.  “I was looking all over for you. Look, I got you blueberries for the cake you were planning to bake. ”

Shohei pinched your sides and smiled, nodding at you to play along with his little act. You forced a wide smile and said, “Wow, yes. You remembered, love? Thank you.”

You both turned to Jack who had a repulsed expression on his face. He coughed up and tried to get back his composure, but it was too late as both of you were already walking away. Shohei did not let go of you even until you turned a corner. You couldn’t care less about shopping anymore as you worried about running into Jack again.

“It looks like your ex is adamant on following you around.” He whispered to your ear, looking back and seeing Jack following far behind. “Care to give him a show, love?” 

You widen your eyes as you realized what was about to happen. 

He moves his head closer to yours and locks you in a wet kiss. He pushed deeper into the kiss when you unconsciously opened your mouth and let him in, mouth and tongue. The smell of clean detergent mixed with a little bit of vanilla filled your lungs, slapping you drunk. The second kiss was just as good as the first. 

Shohei suddenly pulls back from the kiss and offers his hand, and continues walking along like he hadn’t sucked the air out of your body.

For a few more tents, you and Shohei walked around hand in hand in the cold morning, picking fruits and vegetables like your typical neighborhood couple. Many onlookers saw the two of you eating from the free taste section, or arguing about the right vegetable size to buy, or just happily chatting with his hand not letting you go. 

“Shohei, I think Jack’s no longer around.” You motion for him to let go of your hand. 

“Aw, I thought we weren’t acting anymore, the way you were kissing me back there.” He smirks and lets go of your hand, missing his warmth already. 

“I’m only letting your hand go because you look like you’re going to topple over with how heavy this basket is.” He took your groceries from you and led the way. Since you’re practically almost living together, you have no choice but to walk with him awkwardly. 

“Thank you, Shohei.” You said quietly, walking feebly behind him.

“Didn’t catch that, love. What–” He wheels around and stops himself after realizing what he said, the tips of his ears turning red. You tried to keep a straight face but failed as both of you got caught in the moment. 

“Don’t get used to it.” You giggled and skipped your steps, leaving him to carry all the shopping bags he refused to let you carry. 

~~~

You were slowly settling down for the night with a movie on and a bowl of buttered popcorn when you heard a faint knock on the door.

Shohei was standing outside with his hands in the pockets of his checkered pajama pants. On his feet seems to be a brand new pet backpack carrier.

“Special delivery for one order of queen of meowtown, clingy and fuzzball Fraulein!” He beamed and pointed at the carrier. Fraulein was sitting relaxedly inside. 

“Don’t be shocked or anything but I accidentally bought two of these.” He pointed at the carrier. “I-I thought you’d like to have one for Fraulein. You don’t have to accept it i-if you…”

You smiled as he stammered on. “This looks really cute, I love it.”

Shohei smiled widely and helped push the carrier to your living room. “Then I'll give this as a gift!”

“It would be improper to receive a gift like this...”

“I refuse to accept no, Y/N. Take it please.”

You wanted to mull over it, let it marinate in your head and see what happens but ever since the first two kisses you shared with him, Shohei has been… extra friendly recently. And you were not that kind of “friend”. Whenever you pass his house, he’d go out of his way and talk to you before you walk away. Asking you questions if you’re on the way to the farmer's market, or if you’re on your way to work, if you want to join him for a run. He’s been attentive and you’re not sure what exactly this dynamic has evolved into. You feel uncomfortable about the attention you’re receiving but at the same time, you feel it in your chest and in your stomach and at the tips of your fingers. The fluttering. The tremors and the shakiness of breaths. It’s always there when he’s there. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll take it. But no more other gifts, okay!” You opened the carrier to let Fraulein out who walked idly away and climbed into her tree tower. 

Shohei smiled, nodding. He was about to leave the door when you pulled the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Wait. Um.”

He stepped back and looked inquiringly. You held up a photo from your phone to his face: it was you and Shohei on the day you went to the farmer’s market, holding hands while looking at freshly picked flowers. Shohei’s eyes squinted with laughter, looking intently at you while you were captured trying to explain something trivial. It was quite a beautiful shot sent to you by a cousin who was good at photography. More than that, if you were a stranger looking at a random photo like this, you’d think you were happily in love, and the thought made your chest flutter. 

“It’s quite a small town so it didn’t come as a shock to me when people started noticing whatever this was.” Shohei was still looking at the photo, a small smile drawn on his lips. 

“My mom’s side of the family is setting up a brunch this weekend. I usually bring Patrick to this but they wanted to meet you so…” You trailed.

You coughed and took the phone away. “It’s just a small group of people. And we can always say we broke up after three months or something.”

He cocked his head, looking confused. “Are we still doing the pretending thing with your family?”

“Yeah, I mean. We don’t like each other like that, right? We can just say it didn’t work out after three or four months. They usually move on pretty quickly from the guys I date.”

“Let me get this straight, Y/N.” He said slowly, the Adam’s apple on his throat went up and down as he swallowed. “You want to introduce me to your family as your fake boyfriend on your family brunch.”

You affirmed. “Yes.”

“And we’re going to cook up a reason to break up.”

“Yes.”

“And you said we don’t really like each other that much.”

“Not one bit”

“When we already had two kisses.”

“Yeah.”

“And went on a date in the farmer’s market walking around while holding hands. We kissed twice.”

“It  wasn’t a date.”

“It was to me.” He muttered.

“It was because you were helping me with Jack, remember?”

Shohei sighed exasperatedly, his mood darkened. “Pssh, yeah, whatever. Text me the details. G’night.” He scooted to leave and just like that you were left all alone in a confused daze in your living room. 

~~~

You spent too much time tossing and turning on your bed that night. The voices in your head and the whispers in your heart having an ongoing debate about what had happened a few hours before. 

Shohei was extremely happy, almost beaming like a kid when he brought you his gift but his expression changed after you had the conversation about your family brunch. Maybe you can sit it out this year and make up an excuse that both you and Shohei couldn’t attend? Seasonal allergies? Car getting mauled? Someone’s pet dying? Gods, no. You internally smack yourself for even being near to the thought of either your pets dying, not when they’re the closest thing you have as your best friend and family. You believe Shohei believes that, too. 

And why would Shohei become upset when you proposed the idea of a fake relationship with your family? You started this whole mess and it’s slowly getting out of hand, you want to nip it in the bud so it won’t have to hurt that much later on. It was just a one-time thing, an escape plan until Jack gets out of your hair, then both of you can live as freely as you had before. 

Besides, Shohei doesn’t like you to be that upset. Does he? He’s just a neighbor who likes joking around and annoying you whenever he gets the chance. He also just so happens to be a neighbor that Fraulein spends a lot of time on, he’s just someone to you until recently. 

You touch your fingers on your lips. That kiss shouldn’t mean anything to you because maybe Shohei doesn’t think about it that much either. He’s probably had a good number of girls that he’s kissed with that mouth. Given how good those kisses were, his expertise was undeniably top notch. You’ve never had anything like that before. A kiss that makes your insides tremble with need, almost fairytale like. Something close to what Mia Thermopolis had fantasized before her royal engagement with Nick Devereaux, a kiss that makes your leg pop. That’s what it was. A leg-popping, heart-fluttering, soul-defining kind of a  kiss that you’ll ask for more.

But as much as you want this all for yourself like the next person, you just had your heart broken by Jack. Jack who had promised you the moon and the stars, and a beautiful, dreamy, family with your pets. He had you swooning and dreaming about forever. It was all perfect until that fateful date and the cheating. It hurts to realize that no matter how much you love and do better for a person, they will always look for ways to look at other people. The idea of getting into a relationship right away after what happened with Jack is preposterous at this point. The trust and self-confidence Jack broke is something you want to piece together yourself first. Even if it meant being alone for a couple of months, or years. Who knows.  

You tossed to your side once again, feeling the sleep finally get to you. You dozed off soaking under the thoughts of kittens and kissing a tall man with contagious laughter. 

~~~~

Shohei was filling Fraulein’s food and water bowl dutifully as you had asked, waiting for you to finish preparing for the family brunch in the living room. He had finally succumbed and agreed to go with you as your fake boyfriend, despite his initial feelings towards the arrangement. He still doesn’t understand what was going through your head but he nevertheless had stopped bringing it up. He realized that the more he asked, the more you pushed back and retreated into the dark. He decided that he’d wait for you to soften up. You always do. 

And that’s how the two of you went back to being friendly with each other. 

He was sitting on your living room couch with Fraulein, brushing her fur with his fingers. Just another territory she had claimed: Shohei’s lap. 

“Shohei, help please!” You ran down the stairs, all dolled up. You put your hair down again, this time, you kept it naturally soft and straight. You also donned a yellow sundress that hugged your body, showing off your natural curves. The hems of the skirt go loose from the thighs down. 

“Can you help me zip this up, please?” You said so casually. When you turned around and showed Shohei your bare, unzipped back, he swallowed hard. 

He held your waist lightly and zipped your back slowly, as if taking his time to gape at the bareness of your skin exposed for him. When his breath touched your neck, you felt goosebumps pop. 

“Let’s go.” You smiled too widely for him, trying to act like the oxygen in your house has not depleted. 

Shohei was a hit with your cousins during brunch. Turns out that all of them share the same interests in baseball and baseball teams. They were passionately chatting on one side of the garden area while you helped your Aunt Olivia set up the table.

“He’s quite the personality, Y/N.” She mused.

“Wherever did you find a man like that, Y/N?” Your cousin Evelyn commented, staring back. “Woot, what a view.”

You smiled and looked at Shohei socializing with your family. The moment the two of you entered Aunt Olivia’s home, everyone stared in awe. After introductions were made, Shohei made connections pretty quickly with his bubbly personality. You can also hear his occasional booming laughter from their group.

You were on your way to the kitchen when a hand on your waist suddenly pulled you from behind. Shohei led you to the empty pantry and pushed you back to the wall, his hands up on the wall and caging you.

“Hi?” 

“Hi.” He looked deep into your eyes, like he was looking for something. “Anyplace in this house, we are pretending, yes?”

“Yes, the moment we stepped out of the car. We are boyfriend and girlfriend.” You confirmed.

“Even here?” His lips shadowed lightly on yours, nose grazing yours. 

“Uhm. Yes.” You breathed and that would be your last breath for a while as Shohei kissed you full on the mouth. 

He kissed you frantically, with need and fervor. You put your hands over his shoulders and his hands reached the back of your leg, putting it over his waist. You stifled a moan as he bit your neck and peppered your chest with small kisses. You can’t help but push your hips forward and roll it against his. 

You broke apart like a deer in headlights when you heard footsteps nearby. You pushed Shohei and straightened your clothes. You wiped Shohei’s lipstick-stained mouth and ran away as fast as you could. Shohei, who was as kiss-hungry and love drunk as you were, could only smirk at your retreating form. 

During brunch, you sat with Aunt Olivia on your right and Shohei, by default, on your left side. You were trying to make conversation about the current weather news report while eating your plate of mashed potatoes, all while trying to avoid any contact with Shohei. 

He noticed you have been avoidant after the hot makeout session in the pantry. He put a hand on your thigh under the table, pinching it with reassurance.

“Are we good, Y/N?”

You nodded wordlessly and smiled at him. Something about the way Shohei’s attentiveness always hits you to your core. You’ve never felt this so cared for before that it’s almost bewitching. 

The party started getting up and divided: your aunts and uncles dancing happily on one side, your cousins taking selfies on the other. Meanwhile you and Shohei were left sitting comfortably by the dining table, enjoying the sweet ambiance of everyone around you. 

You held his arm gingerly, almost seductively when you felt his hard muscles from his shirt. A few moments ago, you had almost stripped him naked in the pantry with all of your aunt’s condiments as your audience.

“Why are you so toned? What are you working out for?” You said jokingly, pressing on his biceps in amazement.

“I’m preparing for the next man who tries to steal you.” He leaned in and whispered in your ear. You giggled. 

“No one can take me away from you!” You whispered back, resting your head on his shoulder. You were on your third glass of wine and it isn’t noon yet. You feel tipsy and giggly in the comfort of Shohei’s strong arms. 

“And this is a toast to our new couple, Y/N and Shohei, may this relationship be longer than the last one.” Uncle Ben bellowed, attracting laughter from the rest of the family. They clinked their glasses and toasted for the nth time today. 

You raised your own glass and sipped your wine. 

“Don’t mind them, they’re always like that when I bring a guy to brunch.”

He caressed your thigh and wanted to push the button. “Which guys?”

“Hm? Oh just Jack and Patrick. Although Patrick doesn’t count, because he’s my bestie.” Shohei looked at you and wondered who Patrick may be. He felt a bubbling feeling at the pit of his stomach. Is he jealous? Angry? That he wasn’t the first person you introduced to your family. He shrugged it off. This is just all an act, anyway. Get your shit together, man.

“This may be my favorite brunch ever.” You concluded, finishing the last few drops of your wine. Shohei stole the glass from your hand and replaced it with his. 

“The weather is perfect, the food is great, all of my mom’s family is here. And I don’t feel alone… thanks to you.” You traced circles on the back of Shohei’s palm with your thumb. 

“Why don’t we end this with a bang, Y/N?”

Shohei’s smile invites you to a peck on the lips. He held the back of your head and gently kissed you deeply, slowly this time. You don’t resist and he doesn’t let go. You hear cheers from the background as you kiss softly. Shohei kisses you for the last time today with the hopes that it removes the uncertainty in your mind. That when he kisses you better this time, it would change your mind. He prays to all the gods that would listen.

You melt into the moment and hope it never ceases, because you go back to normal after it ends. After today, you and Shohei will be two separate people once again. And that hurts the deeper parts of you without you realizing it. 

~~~~

Shohei escorted you back home after the brunch. You rode in complete silence all the way. You really really didn’t want it to end but you also didn’t want to drag Shohei into a life that you’re not a hundred percent sure of yet. 

“Thank you for the ride.” You hung back at the entrance and Shohei waited, hoping you’d say something more. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

He sighed. “Wait, Y/N. Is that it?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Are we just gonna go back to the way it was now that you’re done pretending?” He said almost angrily. 

“Well, that’s the plan, isn’t it?”

“That’s your plan. I don’t want this to end. Did you ever wonder why I had agreed to it without asking anything in return? Because I didn’t need to pretend at all. It was all real to me.”

You stood there dumbfounded at the sudden outburst of confession from him. You thought Shohei would be more than willing to go back to his old,  uninvolved life with you. But he was right. You never once stopped to think why he was more than willing to help you get away from Jack, or to help you lie in front of your family. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking properly when I asked you this…” You blink back tears forming. 

Shohei walks up to you and rests his hands on your shoulders. “I don’t want this to end. Do you?”

“I’m not sure I’m ready for all of this, Shohei.” You squeaked, finally finding your voice. 

“You’re the most attentive, thoughtful, and sincerest man I’ve ever been blessed to meet. Even I get breathless thinking how lucky I’d be if I let you in…

“This whole fake dating thing was a mess. I shouldn’t have dragged you into my problems.”

“Y/N. Please don’t shut me out. Let me in, I’d go to the trouble of warding off your ex-boyfriend if I need to. I’ll be here for whatever.” Shohei begged. You shook your head firmly.

“I’m not ready yet, Shohei. I loved every moment I have spent with you, but I need to be with myself for now.” 

Shohei dropped his hands to his sides and stepped back, his eyes glistening with tears. 

“See you around, then.”

You watched him walk away until he disappeared into his home. You closed your door and plopped down on the floor. The tears that you were holding back came gushing out, and finally you were bawling. You didn’t cry this hard when Jack cheated on you but when you saw Shohei walking away because of your own doing, you felt like your world had collapsed. You wept until there were no tears left to cry, until the only pain you have left to bear was the hollowness of what Shohei left. You crawled into a ball by the door, clothes unchanged, makeup running down your face. Fraulein snuggles up to you minutes after, sharing her warmth.

Looks like it's just you and me again, Fraulein. 

In the next couple of weeks, you would rise early to tend to your plants, volunteer additional hours in Novel Nook so you could get home later than usual, and avoid the farmer’s market. You added wearing a baseball cap or large hats as a new fashion ensemble to steer away from eye contact at the risk of bumping into Shohei. The thing  is, your efforts to avoid him were reduced to nil as you bumped into him everywhere you went. When you throw out the trash as early as five o'clock in the morning, he’d be there, warming up or jogging on your path.  When you went to the farmer's market later than usual, he was also there doing after-rush hour shopping. Even administering Fraulein’s medicine time was an arduous task seeing that she still hangs around Shohei’s porch, not understanding your human conflict and emotions towards each other. 

There are days when you feel better and the sun is shining, but there are also moments when you catch yourself at the brink of a breakdown. It takes a while for the loneliness to settle in like an unwanted guest, creeping over your shoulder, sometimes hugging you at night. It wasn’t this hard before you met Shohei, so how was it different now?

“All good, Y/N?” You lost your train of thought at the voice of Aunt Olivia. You couldn’t bear the loneliness and the quiet of your home that you packed your stuff and stayed for a week’s worth of vacation. She joined you in the indoor kitchen table, where you were having your mid-afternoon coffee. 

“Boy problems?” she suggested. One look from you and she already knew. 

“Aunt Liv, how do you know if you’re ready to love again?” You said after a moment of silence. 

“You don’t.” She smiled and cupped your hands. “You fuck around then find out.”

She chuckled to herself. “You remind me so much of your mom. She was always scared of trivial matters, like falling in love.

“But when she had a good taste in it, she never looked back.”

Aunt Liv has always been fond of her little sister. Your mom. And hearing these words from her, reminiscent of how she had been when she was your age, twinged at your heart a little bit. 

“I’m not the one who’d pry on your relationships, Y/N. But he’s a keeper, that boy. I thought he was joking at first, but he seems to be serious about it.”

You knitted your eyebrows together. “What do you mean by that?”

“He said something when I got him alone that day. He’d said, you were tougher than a potato under hot water. But he’s willing to wait for you to soften up no matter how hot it gets.”

Leave it to Shohei to drop potato metaphors to your relatives on their first meeting. 

“When a man like that comes around, I won’t ever let him go. You’re lucky if you ever meet the same kind of man twice.”

You pondered on about Aunt Liv’s advice for the rest of the day; by nighttime, you felt an epiphany dawn upon you. The next day, you packed up and went home earlier than you had planned. 

“Go get him, bubba.” Aunt Liv wished you luck. You’ll need all the luck you can get and hope it wasn’t too late. 

It took you approximately an hour to get home by taxi, the car zigzagging across the street. 

You don’t know why you were rushing. He wasn’t going anywhere, not to your knowledge. He will always be right where you left him but something inside you was telling you that a second more that you’re away from home, and you’d lose him. 

You were trying to catch your breath as you ran on your side of the street when you bumped into Shohei leaving your front lawn, a pail and shovel over his shoulders.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He was covered in dirt from the knee up, his white shirt sticking to his body and full of sweat. He looked a little shocked and panicked at being caught mid-exit from your garden. 

“I should ask you the same question. What were you doing in my lawn?” You tried to take a peek but Shohei covered your path with his wide body. “Did you bury a body there?”

“I think that’s a good idea for your fertilizer, Y/N!” He seemed a little agitated and making offbeat jokes to distract you. 

“Step away. What did you do to my garden?” You pushed him with all the adrenaline coursing through you and jogged towards your front lawn, expecting a murder crime scene or worse, a decaying garden. 

Instead, you saw hundreds of tulips in different shades and colors spread all throughout your garden. Purple and yellow tulips lined up the path towards your home. Red and pink tulips danced in the background, swaying every time a soft breeze brushed through. 

“You’re not supposed to see it yet. I thought you’d be back tomorrow night.” Shohei said, rubbing the nape of his head, embarrassed at being caught.

“You remembered when I said… At the farmer’s market…” You stammered.

“Yes, you went on and on about how much you love tulips.” You suddenly remembered the photo before the brunch party. How Shohei was looking fondly at you as he listened to you rambling on about something trivial. It wasn’t trivial to him because it was important to you. And he remembered. 

You turned around and faced him. You held out a hand and wiped a bit of sweat off of his face. “Did you do all of this… on your own?”

He nodded shyly. “That’s not all, though.” He whistled and called Dusty.

“You’re the most stubborn and one hell of a fiery woman. But you’re also the sweetest, softest, clingiest woman I’ve lucked out on. You’re so beautiful sometimes it hurts. After that second kiss, I knew right away that I’d have to fight tooth and nail for you to keep needing and wanting me."

Dusty bursted out of Shohei’s garden stringing along a reluctant Fraulein scruffed by the neck. Both of them were wearing cute red bow ties on their neck each laced with individual messages. 

You pulled Dusty’s message and read, “I want to call you “mom” so will you be my dad’s girlfriend?

You squealed in delight as you unraveled the next message pinned on Fraulein’s bow tie: “I loved him first but can you keep him forever?”

You swooned and laughed at the corniness and the teeth-rotting sweetness. You can’t help but jump into Shohei’s arms and give him a big hug despite all the sweat and grime on his body. 

“Ew, you got all your sweat on me.” You playfully joked at the parting.

“Hmm, you have no choice but to shower with me now.” He lifted you by the waist and carried you on top of his shoulders, both of you laughing and shrieking like newly weds on honeymoon, Dusty and Fraulein at your tails. 

.This place, this scene, and this warmth spreading through your chest up to your fingertips, all of it and the familiarity of it, you realized, is the only thing you need to live a lifetime of love and happiness. You were wondering where it was all this time and you understand now that it had been right beside you all along.

[bread-tab]

okay random 4am rant time, don't take it too seriously, but: people need to recognize there's a difference between "bad worldbuilding" and "worldbuilding styles you personally don't like."

bad worldbuilding is, for example: internally inconsistent, bigoted, or something else that messes up the plot or characterization of the story itself. sloppy. careless.

things that are *not* bad worldbuilding:

minimalism.

i've been thinking about this in the first place because i saw a post about the Murderbot Diaries a while back (don't know who made it, don't care; this ain't personal) saying the worldbuilding in those books is bad and lazy. to me, as an avid sci-fi reader and writer, that is clearly not true. but i understood why they thought this. the series uses extremely minimalist worldbuilding which intentionally withholds a lot of detail, in a way that is consistent with the (nonhuman, robot, depressed robot) first-person POV. this could also be a feature of the author's writing style in general—i haven't read her other works—but i wouldn't bet too much on it.

the signature of intentional minimalism is that there *are* details about the speculative setting—they're just doled out very thoughtfully and sparingly. the intent is to leave you a little hungry for more. it's to make you think very carefully about the details you do have. this is best suited to stories that already have elements of psychological and/or mystery plot types. the worldbuilding you do see should still be believable, internally consistent, and have interesting implications if you think about it a bit. but you are for sure going to have to think harder to get it.

if you're not in the mood, i will concede, a minimalist style definitely comes off as a bit dry. if you are in the mood, it's relaxing.

whimsy.

this is a big one for sci-fi fans in particular. see: the constant debate about whether any particular story is "hard" or "soft" sci-fi, and whether soft sci-fi is bad, etc etc. but worldbuilding doesn't have to be realistic to be good. you're allowed to have Jedi and humanoid aliens and time travel in your sci-fi. you're allowed to have historical anachronisms and astrology and po-ta-toes in your fantasy. whether or not they're silly isn't the deciding factor on how "good" these worldbuilding elements really are.

the key thing is tonal consistency. you've got a serious high-fantasy setting with its own strict, un-Earth-like theology and magic system, and you throw Santa Claus in there? yeah, that's not gonna land well. but C.S. Lewis can get away with that in Narnia just fine. why? because the Chronicles of Narnia are whimsical children's stories with a strong Christian/Western mythological influence already, and their central conceit is a crossover between the mundane world and the magical world. of course Santa can cross over too. it's whimsical, but it's not actually random. (and if you ventured into straight-up comedy, you could get away with random too. as long as it's funny.)

the unreliable narrator.

i don't have a good example for this off the top of my head (maybe Murderbot again? idk, i'm sleepy, fill in your own) but i'll tell you how to recognize when this is done well.

by definition, an unreliable narrator has some key misconceptions about their own world. so how do you tell what's going on as a reader? how do you know the writer isn't equally confused?

you connect the dots. solve the puzzle. in practice this is similar to reading a minimalist setting—but instead of just sparse clues, you also have a boatload of red herrings. you can catch some of these misleading details by comparing them to your real-world knowledge and saying "wait, this doesn't add up." other times, the false clues intentionally trick you by subverting those real world expectations.

the trick is in the consequences. regardless of what the narrator says, their actions should still have logical consequences. there should be things going on that the POV character doesn't know about. the character will be forced to learn and adapt their narrative because of these shifting circumstances. you can catch them in a lie. the inconsistencies themselves tell a story.

...

i'm gonna stop myself there because this post is long and i oughtta be sleeping. just. this is a distinction worth making. is it really bad worldbuilding, or is it simply not the genre you're craving today? learn the difference for your own sake. you'll have an easier time realizing if a story is something you'll find enjoyable to read, regardless of its actual quality.

[butterfliesornauseous]

Image listening to the progression of a tummy becoming upset ~ your fave ver

Properly going to re write this one someday since i wanted it yo turn out differently but I wanted to get it finished tonight so it’s not the best it could be. Also I haven’t written something that’s not short couple sentence prompts I’m a while so I’m rusty so hope my style isn’t too inconsistent:)

Warning again for unrealistic cheesy stuff like all my posts, stomach noises, mentions of food and growls being weirdly described.

A and B ver

Image you are laying on your fav’s stomach.

It’s just after a meal and the two of you are laying down together. Their stomach is gently gurgling under the back of your head. You can almost image the slish-slosh against the insides of their stomach from their food starting to be broken down with each soft little sound.

The noises are relaxing to you. The gurgles and occasionally short grumble work in a perfect harmony of their insides digestion, and they seem to relax as well with no embarrassment of you listening.

The gurgles are starting to change. The soft noises are becoming a little louder, less watery and with less time between each one.

Their stomach makes it first more rumble-esc noise that draws out for a couple of seconds longer than the original gurgles, It’s like the sounds of their food isn’t agreeing to be torn up anymore. Your ear isn’t actually on their belly, so you can’t fully hear what is going down underneath their skin but, that imagine you had about their dinner’s gentle digestion now seems a lot more sloppy and faster now like he can picture their meal sloshing fight back in their tummy.

You think that if their belly is starting to get sore, you should remove your head as you feel the flutter in their stomach and the small squeeze of their muscles. Their stomach clench’s in and rumbles out their throat and they make a soft burp.

You remove your head to give your fav a look. It’s suspicious how quickly they say, “I’m okay.” Without you even asking what’s on your mind.

“Are you sure?” You sigh, you still can hear their tummy’s flutter from your position above them.

“Positive.” they gently reguide your head back to their belly. To be fair, you think, they wouldn’t want the pressure of your head if they weren’t feeling the best, so maybe you are overthinking this whole thing. But you then decide the situation needs a further investigation, and this time you shift yourself to put your ear directly onto their smooth skin under their ribs. Now you can hear all the noises rumbling and twisting inside them. The noises aren’t the most usual squelch based sounds from the process of their tummy breaking down their dinner. Though there’s a deep rumble that forms from a deeper pit in their belly that vibrates against their skin onto your cheek. It feels like it’s almost spiralling up and turning more high-pitched before it breaks off with a sharp noise that sounds more like digestion.

When the spiral noise ends, you feel their stomach suck in tensely before fluttering back to a relaxed state just to tense again. The moan repeats its self deeper this time. Ending with a creak like groan before stopping instead of the higher sound, and in between the louder noises there’s a low but constant burbling that wouldn’t be heard if you remove your ear from the source directly.

You feel your fav try to subtly move a little after that last noise. They breathe a tad deeper. Their hand comes to rest on the top of your head, the action feels more like an affectionate disguise to touch their tummy as their thumb gently strokes their skin.

You bring your attention back to that low but constant burbling. It’s still a watery sound, but it’s sped up just a little with an edge of a bubbling addition to its noises, it’s not a just burble, it’s a sloppy churn of their dinner. Their insides burble and churn like the sound you would think of when thinking of the inside of a melting pot. Thick sloshy sounds of the food turned liquid already inside, starting to churn with moans of and rumbles of the rest of their dinner still fighting against it.

You feel that suck in of their abdomen after the grumble of their stomach issues and remove your head as they burp again….wetly.

Looking down to their tummy, it’s definitely a little rounded now and their chest’s rise and fall seems more strained.

“Maybe-“ they shift, their stomach makes a slight slosh. “Maybe my tummy is a little upset” they groan before they burp again into their fist.

“Okay, it’s more than a little upset.”