#writing in 3rd POV

[3hks]

Adding Personality Into 3rd Person

Some people find third person point-of-view boring in comparison to first person because "it lacks character". Well, I'm here to tell you that's not true! You can most definitely infuse personality into your 3rd person limited narrative (beyond just thoughts and dialogue); it's SUPER easy, and I'm here to inform you how!

For starters, identify the character that's being focused on in the story. More often than not, it'll be your main character, but that's not always the case. Sometimes, the perspective shifts.

The key here is to pretend like it's that character who's telling the story. They're narrating themselves, like in 1st person, only, y'know, it's in 3rd.

Why does this matter?

Words, words, words. How we use them determines not only our story, but also the mood and tone, which is crucial to understand right now. With that being said, the vocabulary used can both subtly and blatantly add personality to your writing!

For example, let's say the "focused character" is more likely to use the word "super", instead of "very" or "really", so they use it once or twice when "narrating".

The sky was super dark that night.

The mirror was super shiny.

The man looked super suspicious.

And guess what? That's already adding your character's voice INTO the text! The use of the word "super" added a more childish tone to the text, avoiding what otherwise could have been rather flat.

Let's look at some more examples:

❀ Maybe your character is more serious. This might lead to a more "standard" style of storytelling, but it's something nonetheless!

❀ Maybe your character is more negative, so their pessimistic viewpoint may affect and/or warp the actual, objective situation!

❀ Maybe your character LOVES a certain show(s), so they occasionally drop references when comparing stuff!

So, if you ever feel like your writing is getting a bit plain or repetitive, this might help you out!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

[serpentface]

He slowed to a halt and looked over his shoulder for signs of pursuit. None followed, but most of the crowd still watched him, not even the death throes of the now-divine corpse sufficing to tear their eyes away. The calf appeared as an earthbound moon hovering above the shoreline, alive and radiant and beautiful beyond words. He could not know this. What he knew was that familiar cattle were somewhere close by, the breeze heavy with their comforting scent. The calf shook his bloodstained head, took a long piss, and trotted away to meet them.

[taiistired]

widow (not-quite mourning)

[writtenroses1813]

Tbh I don’t rlly get the whole “1st person vs. 3rd person” debate on reading/writing because I don’t have a preference they’re just…different ways of storytelling.

When I’m reading 3rd person, I’m sitting around a campfire with an elder as they cast shadows about and the fire dances and they tell all the children the great feats of the heroes

When I’m reading 1st person, I’m on a lunch date with my best friend and they’re telling me the crazy shit they just been through

[pinkxpantha]

Mute in the Language of Love

- Lynette x FEM! reader

#: synopsis- Lynette is pining hard for her friend. A not-so breaking news, she's not that experienced in the field of love. But maybe you'll help guide her in this unexplored biome

#: cw- 1.4k words, you/her pronouns, winners love winning, canon complient, non-established relationship, mutual pining, fluff, reader is implied to work with reviewing books or something, reader implied to be older if you squint and look through a magnifying glass. cup'o'tea

Lynette didn't think of herself as the type to fall in love and fall so hard. As though an arrow was shot into her eye, blinding her of her own environment as she fumbled and was tossed by the world around her.

That swirling in her chest was unfamiliar, the rhythmic pulse of her heart felt as though she could feel the texture of her own ribs whenever she was with you. 

You were a fascinating girl, and you filled her mind more often than she'd like to admit it.

She'd be foolish to think she could keep her feelings hidden for so long, but she didn't expect to be found out so quickly.

It might've only been three hours since Lynette herself realized what that bubbling of her chest meant each time she stared at you. And it only took three minutes for Lyney to become absolutely insufferable. 

Any time she was with you and he just so happened to be in proximity, She'd see his teasing looks directed at her, small smirks flashed her way when the corners of her lips twitched upwards at something you said.

"Lynette, when are you going to tell her?" He pestered her at least once every day. 

It wasn't that she didn't want to tell you anything; each day she suffered in longing wondering if she could hold you in her arms and live with your touch always being available to her, too familiar to forget.

Yet she worried about how her words may come across, if it was too direct, how would you react? Do you like grandiose gestures? (as much as she'd prefer not to make her feelings into a public spectacle it was still an option.) Or would even a heartfelt note suffice?

But Lyney, the ever clever and somehow helpfully-unhelpful man he was told her to 'Just ask her'

Safe to say Lyney got a face full of pillow that night. (Look what you've done, reduced her into this immature mess..)

 The next person to recognize her love filled gazes; one that would commonly be interpreted by those passing by as almost soulless despite how drunk her soul was off of her love for you, Was her younger brother, Freminet.

He had seen the two of you walking down a pathway close enough to one of his usual diving areas to see that soft smile on her face, Lynette's gentle gaze on you as though you were the most precious being in the world.

It took three days for Lynette to even muster up the courage to talk about romance with you; and she didn't even bring the topic up.

It didn't take long to find you, as if an internal compass pulled her into your direction everyday. She walked up to the table you were sitting at, a book rested in one of your hands and a cup of tea in the other.

"What is that you're reading [Name]?" She asked, stirring you out of the focused concentration you held when reading. (Was it so bad she found it cute when your brows furrowed after reading a sentence a bit too quickly?)

"A friend recommended me this book from Yae publishing house," you said, slipping a ribbon in between the page you were reading, showing her the title of the book in your hands. "It's a romance but I wouldn't say it's all too romantic." 

She looked at the cover, reading out loud. "'Engaged to my Lover's possessed body..?' It sounds out of place for that genre, it's a bit...?" 

"Scary? Definitely." You finished for her, the curve of your cheeks becoming more pronounced as you smiled with amusement at her confused reaction. "It would be horrifying to wake up and suddenly someone you know well-- isn't them?"

Lynette hummed in response, "When you put it like that, I wonder how the author came up with that plot." To which you rested your head on the knuckle of your fingers.

"It really depends on how it's written. Good chemistry is good chemistry," you said before looking at the chair in front of you. "If you have the time, you can always have some tea and chat with me Lynette." You offered.

Lynette's ear twitched at your offer. She sat down with a 'Thank you' quickly feeling all her surroundings melt away into a fading background noise with you.

You went over to one of the staff, placing her order for her. Something you had already known by heart, Lynette liked the sharp bitterness of her tea, and she also liked a sweet aftertaste. Tea and biscuits was a perfect combo.

Soon you returned back to her, the sun coating you in it's rays as though it was accepting you to be of the same caliber.

In some ways you were the sun to Lynette. "Are romance books something you read often?" She asked as you sat back down in front of her. 

You held your position in thought, "Outside of reviewing books I wouldn't really say so. I definitely do have an appreciation for the romantic but its always better when you can see it on someone's face." You looked off into the streets of fontaine

Your eyes followed that of those walking together. Different pairs of couples with their arms interlaced with one another, "That look in their eyes, treasuring someone so much that they could stand out in any crowd. That's more satisfying than any well-crafted line of text."

Lynette wanted to beg you to look at her, to see how her pupils dilated each time she looked at you as if she wanted to take in your whole essence and keep it imprinted onto your brain.

"It sounds like you speak from expirence."  Lynette commented, a selfish part of her wanted to be the only one that could show you love on such a grand scale. But her love for you was unique in its own way. She would be the one walking with you as you recited poems from across teyvat that you remembered in that moment.

That love was hers.

"I guess you could say so, I have fallen in love before." You said after taking a sip from your own tea making her remember her own neglected tea. You turned back your head to face her.

Lynette hesitated, her mouth slightly parting as she asked, "If it's not too personal, could I hear more?" You nodded, "Of course."

"I love for simple reasons," You said, your hands folded on your lap as you watched Lynette. "They would listen to me as though I was the only sound they could hear." Your gaze dusted her cheeks like a feather, as if she could feel each movement of your pupils.

"And I watched them as if they were the only moving thing in a still world. " You said.

"Do you still love them?" Lynette asked, her words tumbling out almost instantaneously. Maybe if you were a bit closet to her you might've heard the waver of her breath or seen how her tounge rubbed against one of her teeth. 

 "I don't think its possible to ever stop loving." You responded, Lynette's breath caught in her throat, the vertebrae of her spine keeping it trapped as she looked back at you. 

How Lynette wished she were an artist so she could draw that fondness of your face over and over again, and feel her stomach explode and contort with each rendition. 

Lynette's mouth twitched into a small, barely noticable smile "I guess that's what makes absence hurt so much." She said.

You nodded, "Love really is a beautiful thing." You responded. 

The two of you sat in each other's company for a few more minutes, drinking into each other's presence in a comforting silence as you sipped your tea.

It was only a few minutes afterwards when Lynette placed her cup down with a clink, the empty teacup placed back on its holder.

"Thank you for staying with me for a while." You said, not finding something of substance to make her stay and talk with you some more, but also not wanting her to leave.

She stood up and gave a slight bow to you, "Of course. I enjoy your company." Those soft monotone words padded your ears in a comfort she probably didn't even mean to give.

"I'll see you soon?" You said to her.

"Yes, soon." She responded.

You watched as she walked off into the distance, her figure fading with each step. You let out a soft sigh, glad you could talk about love with her, even just for a moment. In three seconds you already missed her so.

I literally spedran this, it's 3:29 am and I have not proofread it, I will come back to fix mistakes tho 😁 trust ( ≧ꇴ≦)

its actually 1477 words but who's counting [proud]

[lady-of-moths]

Sleeping Beauty (Ace x Reader)

Summary:

As he reminisces their first kiss, Ace can't believe how lucky he is to have her in his life.

SFW

Fluff

Established relationship

A/N: Experimenting with 3rd POV; semi proofread

Warnings: Itsy-bitsy little hint of angst if you really, really squint. Otherwise, just tooth-rotting fluff. Enjoy!

Word count: 1170

It was the middle of the night when Ace finally managed to drag himself out of the meeting and towards the bedroom he shared with her. He’d been up late with the other commanders going through the details of an upcoming operation, and trying to iron out the kinks. They must have gone through it some 50 times already, courtesy of Marco’s insistence (and Ace dozing off repeatedly, but he can’t really help it, can he?). 

At long last, the day has ended, and the quiet of the night reigned once more, as Ace stumbled around the hallways and towards your door. The only sounds he could hear were small, cold waves crashing against the side of the boat, rocking it ever so gently, making its timber creek. 

A small flame flickered atop his finger, lighting his way. He kept on walking - one foot in front of the other. There were two main thoughts going through his head at that moment, as he struggled to keep his eyes open just a little longer. One: how his head throbbed with exhaustion, and two: how he longed to hold her in his arms. 

It was a rather chilly night. While not quite winter, Ace knew it was too cold for her liking. She must have been cold without him… He’d warm her up as soon as he got there. As soon as he got there… This must have been one of the longest journeys to his bed; the stairs and hallways connecting the decks and areas of the Moby Dick seemed positively endless that night. 

A seeming eternity later, Ace’s heavy feet finally stopped in front of a door. He hoped it was the right one, given how tired he was. He wasn’t looking forward to climbing in bed with one of his men. He’d never hear the end of it. A shiver ran down his spine; the thought sobering him up ever so briefly. 

But it must have been this one. 

Ace traced his finger over a burn mark on the door - about shoulder height for him, and on his right side. He smiled wearily to himself as his fingers rubbed over the charred wood. It happened some years ago, around the summer festival. Everyone got drunk off their asses that night, and decided to play truth or dare. While she wasn’t eager to share much about her mystery crush, rumours had been going around about who it might be. Fueled up on liquid courage, Ace made a move on her that night. But oh, that look in her eyes. Her cheeks, so rosy from the booze and the proximity. The way her soft lips parted as she stammered to string words together. And finally, the sound of her voice when she admitted it’s been him all along; him - the one who stole her heart. 

He tried to play it smooth - tried to put his charms to work - but he could not hide the way she made his heart skip a beat, and butterflies flutter in his stomach. The bottles of booze he’d downed - that same liquid courage that brought them to this moment - now seemed to work against him, as his hand, resting against the door, sparked up ever so slightly. But ‘ever so slightly’ was enough to singe the wood before either of them caught on to it. 

Ace then hurriedly patted the wood, clumsily trying to put out the flames, while she laughed and got the hiccups. It was then that she rose up on her tiptoes and pecked him on the lips. Their first kiss - so soft, so sweet, so fleeting - before she told him goodnight and skipped down the hall to her room. 

Her old room… Ace couldn’t remember how long it’s been since she’d slept in there. He didn’t think she could remember either. 

Memories like these warmed his heart. 

His hand grasped the doorknob and turned it gently, trying not to wake her. 

And there she was, curled up in bed, wrapped up in blankets up to her chin. It was indeed a tad too chilly for her liking, and Ace couldn’t help but puff a small smile at that. How someone from a place so cold could be so averse to it was a mystery to him. 

Seeing her in his bed, sleeping soundly, made him feel at ease. They were hardly ever apart, and yet, a part of him could not help but worry that one day she would no longer be there. That one day she would leave him, or be stolen from him. 

But when he saw her form there, beneath the sheets, her chest slowly rising and falling as she breathed in the night air, all his worries melted away. She was safe, and she was there with him. 

Ace softly put his hat down on his desk. He slipped off his boots, and peeled off his shorts, eager to crawl in bed with her and join her in her dreams. 

What was she dreaming of, he wondered? Would she have been dreaming of him perhaps? The thought of it made his heart flutter. 

She stirred, vaguely awake, and turned her head towards him. 

A strand of hair slipped down her cheek and now clung to her lips as she looked at him with half-lidded eyes, beckoning him to join her in bed. His fingers reached out and gently touched her face, brushing the silky strands of hair behind her ear, his gaze and smile soft as he looked down upon her face. Her lips, so full, were more beautiful than the summer flowers in full bloom. The way her long hair would glisten in the warm sunlight reminded him of cascades mirroring late sunsets. Her eyes, so bright with hope, could not compare to any glistening riches of this world. Her love, and his love for her, were deeper than any seas he may have sailed. To him, her beauty was more radiant than the sun, and her love… more captivating than the moon. 

“Ace…” she whispered in the darkness. 

“I’m here, babe.”

“I’m cold…”

“I’ll warm you right up, love,” he said, placing a chaste kiss on her cold forehead. 

Ace climbed up in bed, quickly wrapping his arms around her smaller frame. His body moulded to hers, as his heat seeped into her skin.

To him, she was the calm that cooled his hothead. She was the cool breeze on a torrid summer day. The soothing ointment on a burning wound. 

As her temperature rose, he could feel her relax in his embrace. 

He could not quite understand how he got so lucky - why a girl like her would go for bad blood like him - but that did not change the fact that it did happen…

With a soft sigh, she snuggled closer against him, nuzzling her face into his arm. 

…and all that mattered now was that he loved her and she loved him. To him, she would always be…

…the beauty to his beast. 

Tags: @captainportgasdace

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[write-it-good-imagines]

Every Rule Has An Exception – 5

Author's note: hello loves, happy Easter! We are back with the next part of our beloved story idiots falling in love. No further ado, please enjoy and drop a comment to let me know your thoughts!! <3

P.S: This song is the main trope of this chapter: Faouzia, Fur Elise.

Word count: ±12.5k

Tropes: friends idiots to lovers || slow burn romance || almost smut || angst / light angst || long series || jackson wang || soulmates || original characters || dorks in love || 3rd POV

“Jackson?” Jo put the wooden clamps on the cutting board and turned her attention to the other end of the room where Jackson was. “What happened? Who was it?”

Jackson put Jo’s phone back on the table, and the latter observed a more distant look in his eye. He chuckled wryly. “I told you it was rude to go through another person’s messages. This Max person says you two are viral in Korea.”

Another short message sound echoed through the speakers in the living room. Jackson did not have to look at the lit-up screen to know it was that same man messaging once more. He noticed the grimace on Jo’s face.

“I did not lie to you when I said I had nothing to hide, Jackson.” Jo took the clean plates from the dining table to transfer the beef from the pan. “Max is my ex-lover. He is the last man I was in a relationship with these past couple of years.”

Jo shifted her position to face Jackson who threw the towel from his head to the adjacent couch. His eyes fixed her, and she could not figure out the expression he was displaying. There was one clear thing in his demeanor; the compassion in his irises evaporated.

“Is he still in your life?”

Jo assumed the stance to meet Jackson’s posture. “No.”

“Does he know?”

Jo blinked at the other’s question. She was prepared to answer a hundred million different questions, prepared to be honest with him and with herself alike. Jackson’s inquiry took her by surprise. He presumably had little to no interest in her past with Max; his question focused on her present and sparked the interest to her future.

“He should.”

Jackson sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair. “That’s not a yes, Jo.”

As Jackson sat down on the couch, Jo felt a macabre sensation knitting in her stomach. She instinctively covered her abdomen, grasping at the suit material. “I left him, Jackson.”

Jackson’s eyes never left her silhouette. That barren visage he was carrying twisted her stomach further.  “Why? I don’t know much Spanish, but I can understand mami is an endearing thing.”

“I left him,” Jo repeated. Much to her surprise, the words came out clean, yet vehement. To convince herself of a fact she had already known. “I packed my bags and walked away. We haven’t talked to each other in years, up to a couple of days ago. I deleted his number, and I don’t have it, still.”

Jackson nodded his head, then leaned against the backrest of the couch. “Aren’t you curious to see what he wrote to you?”

“No,” Jo replied, her tone growing stronger, more confident. “I am curious to know what is going through your head right now.”

He closed his hands to hang them at his nape. “Quite a lot of things actually,” Jackson breathed out and shrugged his shoulders. “Was he bad to you? Did he treat you wrong? Why are you here with me now and not with him?”

A short laugh bubbled out of his lungs. “And I’m dying to see what you two became viral for. Even though I don’t want to see my lady do that with no one else.”

Jo’s lips parted slightly in sudden shock of Jackson’s words. How did he look so serene, while also carrying the air of the most troubled man on Earth? Jo had to latch herself to the refuge of the kitchen counter, not to give in to the newfound weakness in her knees.

“Your lady?” she whispered in disbelief.

“Yes, my lady, Jo,” Jackson exhaled and stood up. “Or at least, I thought you would be my lady.” He made a step toward her. “I can’t clear my head of all these thoughts of you, Jo. You’re so alluring in all these right ways. I just can’t keep away from you when you’re near.”

Jo watched him as he inched closer, step after step after step, with fresh determination painting the brown of his eyes, still devoid of the tenderness he had carried in the early hours of the day. Jo could not pretend to know him well enough to read between his lines, to guess his running feelings. Jackson appeared resentful, protective, jealous? A blend of sentiments that could be anything but possessive. A blend of sentiments that revolved around her and her freedom.

Jackson stopped before her, the intensity of his existence capturing Jo’s very essence. His voice sounded urgent, imposing even.

“Say something, Jo. Say something cause I’m losing my mind.”

Jo could feel his warmth fanning against her lips, yet his eyes never left hers. Jackson rested his hands on either side of her body. Jo felt her heart hammering in her chest, swearing that Jackson could hear it too.

“My name is Joanne.” She breathed out. “Joanne who is consumed with thoughts of you, aggravated with the fact that you’re almost always too far away from my fingertips. I am exasperated that I have never met a man like you and I don’t know what to do with these feelings.”

“Joanne,” Jackson murmured, and his features were slowly coloring in softness once more. “Joanne. What a beautiful name.”

Jo looked at the man standing before her, unable to comprehend his reactions. She perceived that her armor was being torn apart piece by piece with such unknown mastery. All that was characteristic of her was washing away. “Please,” Jo pleaded silently, seizing at her chest with one hand. “I need to say these things out loud to you.”

Jackson grabbed her by the hand keeping guard at her soul. “If you stop hiding away from me, I swear I’ll listen to everything you want to say to me.”

She could not counter his request, not with the steadfastness reflected so vividly in his orbs. Jo did not remember the last time she tried to bare herself naked to something else than her mirror. Jackson had that aura about him, to wrap her in safety and take all her bad habits to lay them to rest. Perhaps not all of them were prepared to go, but some were on the verge of breaking apart.

Jo finally spoke, taking him by the hand with a gentle squeeze, “I won’t hide.”  

“Good!” Jackson declared and tugged her to the dining table. “Let’s eat now.”

Jo blinked at him. Then cried out. “What the hell do you mean eat?!”

“Didn’t you say that the steak is no good to us cold?” Jackson replied calmly, pulling her chair. “And I heard your stomach rumbling, so I can’t have you being hungry. We’re not going anywhere after this.”

The woman accepted Jackson’s invitation and seated herself at the table. He retrieved the bottle of wine from the living room table and rummaged through a side drawer for the corkscrew. Jo was watching his light movements with an irritation in her throat. He put her through a rollercoaster just moments before, having her on the edge of anguish that he would detach himself from her.

Could those have been the same emotions she put Max through?

Jo confirmed to herself that she was a big contender for the greatest hypocrite on Earth.

Jackson returned to the table to fill the tall glasses with Pinot Noir, mocking the motions of a renowned wine connoisseur, and earned a smile from Jo. He sat in his chair and, in a firm action, pulled Jo’s chair closer to his own.

“What are you sitting so far away for?” he chuckled at the shock on the other’s face.

“That was very sexy.” Jo admitted, moving the cutlery to her.

“It was meant to be sexy,” Jackson boasted, notwithstanding a smirk. “Did it work?”

Jo scoffed at him, failing to conceal her smile. “Yes, it did. Now please see to your steak.”

So, Jackson cut a piece of the steak and brought it to his mouth for a prolonged bite. Jo was nervous initially, thinking that she must have overcooked it; Jackson’s lewd groan, whether intentional or not, confirmed otherwise. “I’m sold.”

“To whom?” Jo joked sheepishly, safely tending to her dish. She appreciated Jackson’s intentions of easing the tense ambience. It gave her a sense of security that he was truly willing to give her the attention.

Jackson’s smirk grew wider. His expression was seductive enough that Jo could not take her eyes off him. Jackson switched the topic. “Did you know that the boys are planning to throw a party for all the September birthdays? Youngjae’s was the first, then Jinyoung’s was just a couple of days ago, and Yugyeom is coming up soon.”

“Oh really?” Jo took another bite of her steak. “Sam didn’t say.”

At that point, Jackson had stuffed his cheeks with food. His close resemblance to a chipmunk was an outrageous shift from his previously delicious features. He continued when he finished chewing. Jo was happy to see him enjoying himself.

“I’m sure Mark didn’t want to put her through organizing everything again. Bam mentioned at some point he felt really bad he had to put so much on her, so he must have understood the message.”

“Nonsense. Sam loves doing these things. She always planned all our birthday parties back in college.”

“She has a knack for that. I had so much fun at Mark’s.” Jackson approved and stopped to reach for his glass. He brought it closer to Jo’s. “Cheers?”

Jo’s fingers wrapped around her glass, meeting Jackson halfway. “Cheers.” Then she sipped from the glass, “Me too. It felt like the old times.”

“You know,” Jackson began, “After we talked about your old squad in Stanford, you know, at the party, I kept thinking how it could have been to have met you back then.”

Jo leaned her chin on the back of her hand, focusing her full attention to Jackson. “I don’t know, maybe we wouldn’t have met at all. I probably would have been a freshman, and you, a senior. Besides, fighting through a swarm of girls would have been tough.”

Jackson motioned with his index in the air, making a quick calculation. “You’re 28 then?”

“Bingo.”

“Ah, shit, sorry,” Jackson rapidly covered his mouth, in a mortified expression. “I didn’t mean to ask.”

“Ah, fuck that,” Jo laughed in response and took another sip of wine. “I don’t mind. Well, I don’t mind if it’s you. I promised you I won’t hide anymore, and my age is part of that. It’s worth knowing I’m younger than you, no?”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t care.” Jackson replied decisively. “Doesn’t make any difference to me.”

Jo nodded her head, grabbing the fork and knife again. “So, birthday you were saying?”

“Oh yeah. So, we’re doing that Saturday next week. Jaebum wants to do a live stream with all of us for our fans.”

“That’s nice. Always so thoughtful.”

“Right. We need a video editor.”

Jo blinked with curiosity. She did not remember the Got7 members having any social media content edited from their live streamed versions. “Why? You want to do some TikTok content and all that?”

Jackson seemed a tad hesitant to reply. “Well, maybe some short clips with the happy birthday stuff and some photos with the members.”

“If you need any help with ideas and whatnot, maybe I could help,” Jo offered. “You can ask Jaebum to contact me, and we can brainstorm.”

Jackson put his cutlery on the table surface with a loud sigh. “Fuck it, I’m not good at these things,” He looked straight at Jo. “We were wondering if you’d like to edit and post our stuff.”

Ah. So that was the beating around the bush for. “I mean, I’d hate to refuse you but—"

Jackson’s face all but changed into a horribly sad puppy look. “But you will?”

Jo’s shoulders dropped. Something about him made it terribly difficult to refuse virtually anything that came out of his mouth. Jo was developing a weakness for Jackson she had never developed for anyone before. “Jeez, let me finish. I was about to say that it’s no big deal to do it, editing and all that is pretty easy. If I had a camera. Which I don’t.”

Jackson’s face reverted to its cheerful display. “Both Jayb and Jinyoung have cameras.”

“I know they do,” Jo laughed at the other and bumped her foot against his under the table. “Jaebum held a photography expo in 2020 if I’m not mistaken. Very good stuff.”

“You knew that?!” Jackson’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise.

“Of course I do! Who do you take me for? I should have received the biggest Got7 fan badge or something.”

Jackson put his hands in the air in mocked defense. Jo chuckled.

“Why me though?” she asked, dropping her head in the palms of her hands.

“In case it’s not already obvious,” Jackson folded his arms over his torso, “Your art and creativity are beyond extraordinary. And I might have run my mouth to the boys about it, too.”

Jo cocked an eyebrow, a sliver of a smirk tugging at her lips. “Do go on.”

Jackson mirrored her actions. “Right, so I told Jaebum to talk to you himself. But he said that I should do it cause he didn’t have your number or some shit.”

“Mhm, as if my contact is not listed on my company’s website. Doesn’t answer my question though. Aren’t you guys already working with someone on the photo video side?”

“It’s kind of short notice to be honest,” Jackson scratched at his nape. “We didn’t know we would all be free to meet up. And the live thing idea was given on the spot.” Jackson stopped for a brief second to capture Jo’s eyes. “And I wanted you.”

It was no secret Jo’s orbs softened. Jackson picked it up swiftly and took her by the hand.

“So, you wouldn’t have invited me to celebrate with everyone had it not been for my photography mastercraft?”

Both of them burst out in hearty laughter at Jo’s teasing remark. She entwined her fingers through Jackson’s.

“I thought you being there was by default at this point.”

His touch was tender, like the spring’s gentle sunshine. If time could be frozen in a bottle, Jo would have chosen that very moment to imprint in her tapestry of forever: Jackson’s cherished warmth, his velvety smile and that ethereal serenity his eyes wore whenever he looked at her. When he spoke again, his voice descended a semitone.

“Joanne,” he smiled once more. “I’m not used to calling you this.”

A faint trace of a blush flushed her cheeks. “You’d better be, Jackson.”

Jackson sighed; and Jo’s world came tumbling down, in fear of the worst. She respected his uncertain pause.

“Joanne, I like you. Very much. Extremely much.”

Jo held her breath. “But?”

“You’re not ready for this.”

She lowered her eyes, but Jackson guided his other hand to cup her cheek and lead her back to him. He met her with a reassuring smile that had Jo release all the apprehended air in her lungs. “I didn’t say I’m giving up on us.”

Jo’s bottom lip started trembling.

“I don’t want to share any of you, or your mind, or your heart, or your anything with anyone. Neither of us deserves this.”

“I know. You don’t.” Jo’s voice barely survived a whisper, and she tried to look away. Jackson’s thumb caressed her skin.

“Hey, look at me. You promised you won’t hide from me anymore.”

Jo reluctantly tilted her head to look at Jackson. “I’m afraid. My hyper fixation with being the independent eldest daughter who was pushed to being perfect and doing everything perfectly on her own makes me afraid.”

Jackson’s voice dictated patience. As promised. “Of what?”

“That I’ll pack my bags and walk away from you just as I did to Max. That I’ll leave you without a trace because I can’t open up to anyone because I keep on telling myself I don’t need anyone to build my life for me.”

Jo grabbed Jackson by the wrist, trying to hold herself steady. Her fingers were cold and numb. “Max was never bad to me. He treated me well and always did his best to make me happy. When I started building up my career, I convinced myself that he would only hold me back, and sabotage me, and we couldn’t have anything anyway because he was touring the States to lead his musicals.” Each word coming out of her lips caused fissures in her voice, and, unbeknownst to her, a tear bubbled over Jackson’s thumb.

“I don’t want to do this to you, Jackson. You’re doing all these things right, everything you could do, you are doing. You don’t deserve the cup half full.”

Jackson reached over to place a chaste kiss on her temple and pull her into his chest. He curled his fingers through the hair at the base of her neck, his other arm holding her into his proximity.

“Do you trust me?”

Jo retreated to look at him. Jackson encircled both her cheeks, eyes steadily studying her features.

“What?”

“This is not something we can control, Joanne. If you decide to pack up your things one day and walk away, I can’t do anything about it. It’s the same for me.” There were no traces of insecurities in his tone. “I think I told you that I don’t want to fuck this up with you because I did not try. So, I ask you again, do you trust me?”

“Jackson, but—”

His eyes stopped wondering to fixate upon hers. “Do you trust me?”

Where was all his conviction coming from? How could he be so vehement, why would he be? What did he see in her that he was so adamant to have her, faced with the choice that she could leave regardless?

“I do,” Jo spoke, gasping for air. “I trust you.”

“Then I’ll be man enough to make you feel safe with me.”

She shook her head out of instinct. “I don’t understand. I did all these things in the past, and I am so ashamed of them, yet you don’t bat an eye?”

“Fuck the past, Jo. Fuck it, I don’t care.” Jackson cut her off, lowering his hands to capture hers again. “I want to live in the present with you. All I’m asking is you forgive yourself and come to terms with what’s in your heart. Anything else? We’ll figure out together.”

Another tear followed in the avenue of the earlier one, sprinkling over Jackson’s thumb. There was desperation lingering in his eyes as he watched the droplet break against his skin, forehead wrinkled in evident discomfort.

“And look at me,” mumbled Jackson, “I promised you I’d fight for your smiles and happiness, and I’ve already made you cry.”

Jo chuckled in disbelief, fighting against the whirlpool in her orbits. “Shut up. These are happy tears.”

She enveloped Jackson’s hands in her own, to tug them at her lips and plant butterfly kisses on each of his wrists. The crease in his forehead gradually disappeared and got replaced by raw fragility. “When I read your letter the other night, multiple times as I’ve told you, I scribbled a little something of my own in response.”

“Oh?” breathed Jackson and rested his hands against her thighs. His fingers massaging into the clothed skin felt feathery. ”What about?”

“You’ll see. Actually, I think it makes the most sense to give it to you now, since you already stripped me of all my masks anyway.”

Jackson followed Jo curiously with his eyes as she straightened her body to poke through her handbag and pick up a small leather agenda. Jo opened the diary where her handwriting adorned the pages.

“When you released High Alone earlier this year, I admit I hadn’t followed your individual projects for a while, so I was excited to see what you were up to as an artist. Watching that music video, it broke my heart. Then I watched the behind the scenes and all it did was twist the knife into the wound.”

Jo extended her arm to hand the diary to Jackson.

“It truly hit me then that we collectively have no idea what you are going through. And I said to myself that I hope someday you’ll find that person after your own heart. To walk with you through all this darkness.”

Jackson watched her in awe as she spoke. The agenda was light in his hands, yet Jo’s words carried such weight that he found it nigh impossible to break their contact. The woman regarded his silence as means to finish her confession.

“I’ll be selfish now and say that I want to become that person for you. I’ll speak with Max and make all my intentions clear, sure. But I want to let you know that I want us to try. I want us to be together. Will you wait for me just a little longer?”

Jackson hurriedly put the journal on the adjacent table and dashed over to Jo to crash his lips against hers. The familiarity of his touch against her skin caused the air to hitch in her throat and an explosive sensation to blast at her core. Jo spiraled her arms around his neck and conceded into his presence, unquestionably following Jackson’s lead. His hands travelled to the nest of her lower back, and, in the tumult of the rowdy moment, his fingers inadvertently slid under her Balmain blazer. The woman flinched at the unexpected bare contact, which caused her back to arch further into his embrace.

A vulnerable mewl formed in the back of Jo’s neck and, admittedly against her wishes, she broke the kiss in a struggle for breath. “Jackson, I can’t breathe.”

The carnal appetite lasted but a moment on Jackson’s physiognomy. He broke into a grin and stole another sheepish peck from Jo. “I got carried away.”

“Mhm, you sure did, my cielo.” Jo nuzzled her nose against his, lips taunting over the other’s. She was growing impatient to taste that impure hunger Jackson displayed mere milliseconds before. As opposed to the other times she desired him and his physical pleasures, Jo started yearning for him. For a connection to the infinitesimal pieces of his soul.

“My cielo,” Jackson repeated through a nimble lick of his lips. Jo was no psychic, but she could swear the attraction was ripe and no longer one sided. Especially with Jackson’s body drawing closer inch by inch, to keep the ecstasy palpable at an alarming distance. He was entirely aware of his doings. “I like that.”

“I have more where that came from. But I must go shower.”

Jackson whined at her proposition, reluctant to break their contact. “You should. I mean, you don’t smell bad or whatever—”

“I know. I assume you won’t share the bed with me tonight?”

He kissed her lips again as if delivering an apology. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I don’t think it’s the best moment for us to do it. I’ll tug you to sleep, as promised.”

Jo was receptive of Jackson’s growing cravings amidst their voracious shared moment, but her better judgement was still in agreement with Jackson’s. On the brighter side of the coin, she was satisfied with the evidence that he might have desired her at least to a fraction of how much she yearned for him. She laughed briefly before she replied.

“So, no free Willy man tonight?”

Jackson’s eyes reflected earnest terror. “Oh my God, I really did say that in a podcast.”

“I know! I’m sorry to your Willy.”

“Stop it!” he laughed and pulled her into an embrace as Jo threw her head back in triumphant laughter. “He won’t choke for a night or two.”

Jo grabbed at his shoulders tighter as he spun her around in the living room, the sounds of happiness colliding with the once empty walls. Jackson gently placed her back on the ground, and the dazzling smile colored on his face tugged at Jo’s heartstrings.

“You know, I lied a bit when I said I don’t have anything planned for us. Technically it’s not a lie because I forgot, but the Moon Festival is celebrated this weekend, and I want to show you how beautiful this city is.”

For the first time in an arduous long time, Jo looked at the man standing in front of her and decided to give in to him. To accept his lead, to be guided by someone else. To enjoy the buried requests of her inner child and truly wear her soul bare on her sleeve. To bask in her femininity.

“I would love to.”

The following morning, Jo woke up before dawn. All the lights in the apartment were off and no noise was coming from the living room where Jackson was sleeping. Taking advantage of the fact that she was rather energized after a relaxed night and quiet sleep, Jo decided to unpack her gym clothes and go for an early run. She finished her morning routine quickly and went to check on Jackson. He looked peaceful and in deep slumber, still; Jo retrieved his blanket from the floor and covered him.

What caught her attention was the diary wide open on the nearby coffee table, where she had left it open only a few hours prior. The edges of the paper were uneven, a testament to the faithful fingerprints that took their time to master the words. Jo smiled to herself and headed out.

Strip for me—not your clothes, not your body

but the armor you wear when you think no one is looking.

Jo’s brain was still high on the bliss of the previous day’s events, but capable enough to replay each stage at a slower pace. It felt surreal, regardless; Jackson managed to unpeel layer by layer by layer of her carefully built fortress. She would have thought him mad to put his trust in a woman whom he barely came to know. She would have thought him insane to chase her so stubbornly.

Jo picked up the speed.

Take off the version of you

that makes everyone comfortable but you.

Was he, though? Mad, insane? Or was she the one who indoctrinated herself to believe that hiding from people was the best way to protect oneself from damage? Why did it take one man, him, and no one else, to open her damn eyes to the things she refused to see?

Then it hit Jo that Max was never on equal footing with Jackson. Consequently, the attempt to keep herself trapped in the same old patterns proved to be futile. Jackson saw right through her and her games, whereas Max seemingly played along. And the funny part in Jo’s story was that she never prayed for Jackson to walk in her path. Jo sprinted back to the apartment.

Stand there, bare in your fury, naked in your wanting

Let me worship you for it.

Was she falling in love with Jackson?

Jo attempted to open the front door discreetly, only to be met by an inviting smell of freshly cooked breakfast. Jackson was keeping busy in the kitchen, and she noticed that all the dishes from the night before were cleaned. A Chris Brown R&B tune was humming in the background.

Jackson chimed joyfully as Jo shut de door. “Good morning, queen!”

“Queen?” Jo displayed an amused expression. “Good morning to you, king. When did you have time to make all of this? I’ve been gone like…” she checked her smartwatch to discover she unconsciously took an alternate route back. At least she sorted out her thoughts. Allegedly. “An hour, yeah.”

“Least I could do. I realized I was a total asshole and never said thank you for the delicious dinner. I’m not the best chef though, got to admit.”

Jo approached him in the kitchen to inspect his cooking, enjoying the thoughtful surprise. “Ah, come on. That was my pleasure. I love cooking.”

Jackson smiled at her and sneaked a kiss on her lips. Jo blinked curiously in response to his gesture but fought back with a kiss of her own. He analyzed her with the corner of his eye and enveloped her in his embrace to carry her to the couch.

“Jackson what are you doing, I am dirty and sweaty—”

“Don’t start a fight you don’t want to fight!” he placed her gently on the plush material to tower over her and initiate a kissing attack. Jo squirmed back and forth with loud giggles; her cap evaded somewhere on the floor, her ponytail loosened into wild strands, all the while Jackson showered her face with love. A foul smell mixing through the air flooded Jo’s nose.

“The eggs are burning, Jackson.”

“Shit. Fuck,” he laughed clumsily and made haste to the stove, releasing Jo from her imprisonment. “Look, this is not burnt. It’s just crisp.”

He showed the pan to Jo, pointing frantically at the light-brown eggs. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that she did not like her scrambled eggs that way. Maybe she would even grow to like the dish simply because Jackson made it. “It’s fine, guapo. Don’t worry.”

Jackson’s free hand immediately spread over his chest upon hearing Jo’s pet name for him and a jubilant smile coated his features.

“I’ll go shower, okay? I won’t take long. Oh, but before that, I need you to tell me where we are going today.”

“No?” Jackson scoffed. “It’s a surprise.”

“I need to know what to wear. I only have heeled boots and sneakers, and my decision highly depends on your answer.”

“Ah, okay. Sneakers should be fine.”

“Perfect! Be right back. I like the music, by the way.”

Jackson took it as incentive to turn the music louder, and Jo gladly received it as great shower setup. Fine China started playing right after she angled the faucet, a singer’s captivating invitation. By virtue of promising Jackson, she would be fast to return to him, she skipped straightening her hair, freeing her mild curls from a soft scrunchie. She only applied a thin layer of BB cream and dressed in a black turtleneck and navy-blue jeans.

When she got out of the bathroom, the kitchen table had already been set. A bowl of freshly cut figs, pears and grapes graced the center, surrounded by toast and butter that Jo never remembered buying. Another set of scrambled eggs filled two plates, and she snickered at the fact that he went out of his way to make another. Her snicker alerted Jackson’s senses to look up from the sink and at Jo, and the look of adoration in his orbs instantly sketched a hue of rose on her cheeks.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous!” he spoke enthusiastically. “Is your hair naturally wavy?”

“Yes, I didn’t have time to straighten it—"

“I love it. Come sit down.”

Jackson pulled her chair which was set in close proximity to his that time around, and Jo promptly complied with his request. “Thank you, kind sir! Where did you get all these goodies?”

He seated himself at the table. “There’s a nice granny who sells fruit and vegetables at her small market downstairs. She says her son has an orchard outside of town, and she always brings seasonal treats. Did you know that figs are actually extremely easy to grow?”

“I think I do!” Jo extended an arm to snag half a fig from the fruit bowl. “My dad has a couple of these trees in his backyard, and he says they can last over Alaskan cold and Saharan heat.”

“Ah, fuck. I can’t surprise you with anything.” Jackson pouted through a chuckle.

“Never give up, please. I’m very eager to find out about everything that goes through your head. For example, where we are going today.”

He shook his head, eyes glued to hers. “My lips are sealed.”

“Mhm. How about I unseal them?” teased Jo.

“Please don’t,” Jackson protested with a smirk. and grabbed a slice of toast. “I really don’t want to tell you.”

“Fine. I’ll stop asking. Make sure to tell granny next time that these figs are amazing!”

He nodded and spread some butter on his slice. “Speaking of which, did Jaebum contact you? I gave him your number to talk about Saturday.”

“Not yet. I have some suggestions of my own to make, perhaps we’ll plan something really nice together. Oh! This reminds me,” Jo skipped away from the table to fetch her phone. “Bam messaged me earlier on Instagram.”

“Bam did?” Jackson approached the other as she showed the phone to him as well.

[bambam1a]: you know Kyle Hanagami AND DANCED WITH HIM????

[bambam1a]: wth girllll you’re so based

“What the hell does based mean?” Jackson asked with a distinctly confused visage.

Jo laughed, both at the texts and at the other’s innocent inquiry. “It means that you express approval or respect to someone else. Oh my God, he literally stalked me, this is a really old post from a couple years ago.”

Jackson blinked, until realization hit him. He abruptly turned to her. “Wait a second, you danced with Kyle Hanagami?”

“Sure did! Which tells me you don’t follow me on Instagram.”

Jo tapped on the Instagram reel Bambam replied to in her dm’s, trying to fight away Jackson’s frozen expression. The snippet of Kyle’s How Long choreography started playing on her phone. “He altered some of the moves to make it more suitable for a duet. I filmed a marketing campaign for him way back when and he was one of the very first people who endorsed my venture of establishing a company. I think Kyle brought in some of my first clients.”

Jackson watched the one-minute video intently, arms crossed over his chest, and head bobbing to the background music. He didn’t say a thing throughout the duration of the clip but started clapping his hands by the end of it. Jackson replayed it right away.

“I’m sorry, I was too focused on you to see whatever Kyle did next to you.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You’re seriously good. Lines are so sharp and so controlled, like what the fuck pardon my French. Is there anything that you cannot do?”

“Thank you.” Jo dipped her head in a bow, to type an answer back to Bambam. “There were so many contemporary styles of choreographies we had to do in college for our plays, I had no choice but to hone the damn lines.”

[jmontgomery]: hahahaha thanks bam

[jmontgomery]: I respect you too homie

[jmontgomery]: I take it you enjoyed the stalking session

“You know,” Jo resumed after putting her phone back on the table. “I learnt the Python choreo, too! I wanted to jump on the TikTok trend back then, but I never had enough time to film it.”

“You know the Python choreo?” Jackson repeated in disbelief. “Let’s film it then!”

“Like what? You and me?”

“Did I stutter?”

Jo’s phone buzzed multiple times. She picked it up with a jolly snort.

[bambam1a]: you know what J

[bambam1a]: at least I had the balls to tell it to your face

[bambam1a]: cause Gyeom chickened out

[bambam1a]: 😎

[bambam1a]: say hi to Jack from me pls

[bambam1a]: ship you two btw

“This brat.” She joked and showed her phone to Jackson once again. He burst out laughing at his brother’s messages.

“They already gave you a nickname, J. Even more reason to shoot the video.”

 Jo opted to snatch another fig from the bowl. Jackson made a mental note to buy more of those the next time they would dine at home. J&J was not a bad combination at all.

“Let’s say we shoot the video. Where? I don’t even have appropriate clothes for that.”

Jackson clearly couldn’t take another nonsensical word coming out of Jo’s mouth. “I have a dancing studio at Team Wang. I also have a clothing line at Team Wang. And since I wanted to pick up the guitar anyway, it’s two birds with one stone or whatever.”

Jo lifted her arms up in straightforward surrender. There was no use fighting with Jackson anyway. In fact, the more she thought about it, the better the opportunity to break her new collaboration with Jackson to the world.

But she decided to push his buttons further. “Pick up the guitar? Whatever for?”

Jackson just stared at her, demonstrating an exasperated smile. She suddenly felt giddy.

“Fine, fine. You just had to say it and I would play any song you want me to.”

He tended to the cold eggs in his plate. “It’s good we understand each other.”

The trip to and from Team Wang’s headquarters was short, as was their detour. Jackson was fast to bring her a set of Team Wang t-shirt, pants, and cap, and Jo had to withstand a series of endless (yet extremely well received) compliments of how great she looked in his clothes. Taking into consideration the fact that the building was far from being empty and a considerable amount of people gathered round to watch the two shooting their dance, the episode was finished earlier than Jackson would have liked.

He would have sneaked in a kiss too, but who kept track of all those little trinkets?

And Jo would have slammed him against the wall, but then again, who kept the count going?

“That was surprisingly fast,” Jo commented as they found their way inside Jackson’s car once more and hit the road toward the secret destination. “I expected us to make more mistakes.”

“Are you kidding me? I am the only one who made mistakes.” Jackson countered and raked through his golden locks. “You are flawless.”

“Am not. Muscle memory I guess.”

“Yeah, I should have had that!”

Both laughed earnestly.

“I would have loved it if you kept my clothes on.”

Jo supported her body weight against the inner door, cheek resting into the plush of her palm. Her eyes drifted to the fleeting buildings of the outside world and sighed a tad louder. The car constantly on their tail, with two bulky looking men in charge of Jackson’s security detail, was a painfully obvious reason why Jo chose to revert to her mundane clothes. Even the black mask Jackson had prepared for himself was not a real deflection from the wondering eyes of the public.

Not in his base town, anyway.

When she failed to reply, Jackson did instead.

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. Please don’t ever apologize again.” She turned to look at him and welcomed the invitation of his hand on her knee. “Part of the job, isn’t it? And, as I told you before, I love myself a little limelight.”

Jo put her hand over his, giving It a gentle squeeze. “I’m in this with you, whatever it takes. I’m not a weak woman.”

The corners of Jackson’s lips lifted in a melancholic smile. “I know, Joanne. I know.”

It was past the second part of the day when Jackson and Jo reached the Nanxiang Water Town. Jackson parked his car in a reserved spot, somewhere close to the main entrance of the town, and Jo all but dashed outside the car to marvel at the ancient houses as they came to life from a distant past. Lanterns were prepared to spread their warm light across the intimate pathways, to pierce through the dense crowds.

Jackson matched the opening to speak to his bodyguards to keep a secure distance from the couple and prioritize Jo if something unpleasant were to happen. He placed an evanescent touch to the lower of her back to make her aware of his presence. He leaned down to whisper closer to her ear, visage shielded by the fabric of his mask. “Do you like it?”

Jo clasped her hands together and gave Jackson the brightest grin he had ever seen in his life. “I can’t wait for you to teach me more about your city!”

Jackson snaked his hand in hers, to interlace their fingers together. As Jo tried to pull away, he tightened the clasp. He began walking ahead and gave her the space to settle by his side, guiding her through the narrow openings of the crowds. The strong smells of spice and traditional cuisine rapidly filled Jo’s lungs.

Every time Jackson spoke to her, he approached her smaller frame, to be permanently close to her. “Do you know what xiao long bao is?”

He pointed to a more secluded stall, where an elderly man was cooking the dish. Jo shook her head to answer Jackson’s question.

“It’s a dumpling basically, and it’s traditionally served for breakfast. During the Moon Festival, you share it with your friends and loved ones and it’s said to strengthen your bond.”

Jackson stopped by the stall and acquired a bill from his wallet to buy 4 dumplings. Jo was eagerly listening to the story. “A restaurant owner added gelatin to the pork filling and boiled it. When he realized that the dumpling was filled with soup, and saw how yummy it was, he knew he hit the jackpot. And this is how you eat it.”

He drew the mask from his face to bite the top of the dumpling and steam linings evaded in the air. He slurped the soup from the inside of the dumpling, then stuffed it in his mouth. A sound of amazement tweedled from Jo’s throat and she lost no time to follow Jackson’s example. An identical sound followed as she munched on her dumpling, and her eyes twinkled. The merchant said something in Chinese to Jackson and the only thing she caught was xiè xie.

Jo looked up at Jackson when they resumed walking. “What did he say?”

He chuckled. “Do you want it word by word?”

“I’d appreciate it, yes.”

“He said that my wife is very beautiful and that I should teach her about our traditions.”

She preoccupied herself with the sole dumpling left in a pathetic attempt to disguise the redness of her cheeks. “To which I agree.”

Jo almost dropped the paper container where her serving was. Jackson laughed out loud. “That you’re beautiful of course.”

He did not comment further on the issue, and neither did Jo, so he ultimately let it go. It made Jo wonder if he pulled those words out of his ass but never confirmed her supposition.

“Say Jo, what would you say is an important first milestone in a relationship?”

Jo tapped an index against her chin before replying. “First fart I’d say.”

“Yes, right—Sorry, what?” coughed Jackson and had to confirm she was serious.

“Obviously,” she stressed her answer. “If you feel comfortable enough and safe enough to do that with someone, that must mean you’re in it for the long haul.”

Naturally, he wondered. “So… did you do that?”

“Jackson!”

He laughed again but in a defensive state. “What? Then it means we’re not there yet!”

She swatted his arm playfully and followed with laughter of her own. “You’re impossible.”

“I didn’t say shit, Jo.”

“What’s yours then?”

Jackson considered his answer for a little while. “Introducing her to my parents.”

Jo smiled at him and Jackson debated if her eyes ever turned into those shimmering crescents before. “I’d love to meet your parents someday. I’m sure they are very good people.”

She stopped dead in her tracks at the entrance of a souvenir shop. She could have asked anything of him and Jackson was convinced that anything she would have requested, he would have broken all hell loose to give it to her.

“Maybe they have dumpling key chains here…” Jo wandered through the various objects in the shop until she found the two key chains she was looking for. She swooped four magnets and happily skipped to the cashier’s booth to pay. Jackson chuckled and lightly gestured for her to put her phone aside. Another moment of their day when he wanted to kiss that pout of hers.

“They don’t have POS here, beautiful. It’s a traditional town.”

Jackson took the gift bag and thanked the cashier on their way out. “Besides, I wouldn’t have let you pay anyway, just as disclaimer.”

Jo sighed. “Fine. But one of those two keychains is yours. I thought it would be cute to mark our first official date together through this little something.”

“First date, huh?” he echoed and unconsciously squeezed her hand a little tighter. With no protest that time around. “Would you like to have more?”

“I mean, if you’re asking…” she winked at him. Her smile, as he would later find out, would be the death of him one day. “I would love to, yes.”

As their stroll approached the central point of the town, the splendid water canals spread just beneath their feet. A picturesque pier where various people were boarding gondolas caught Jo’s attention.

“Do you want to hop on one?” Jackson asked, keeping her close by his side to protect her from the swarm of people.

“Are you reading my mind or something?” she giggled and walked with Jackson to the dock. The image of the two bulky security men on a floating gondola amused her to no end. Jackson spoke to an open gondolier and was the first to embark on their canoe. He offered his hand to Jo, assuming a balanced stance. “Come, it’s shaky at first but you’ll get used to it quickly.”

There was no use asking anew if she trusted him; she didn’t bat an eye to his warning and all but jumped inside the raft, earning a raised eyebrow from the gondolier. She settled on the wooden stand and a latent shiver caused her body to tremble.

“Are you cold?” Jackson asked and immediately undressed himself of his jacket. He draped it over her shoulders, which she tried to give back.

“But your shirt fabric is thinner than my turtleneck.”

“Do you think I gained all this muscle for show?”

Jackson strained his bicep with an overly done serious aspect and Jo covered her mouth to suppress a chuckle. “Whatever, Superman. Suit yourself.”

Contrary to her words, she properly put on his jacket. Jackson wrapped an arm around her middle to tug her silhouette into his chest. With dusk fast approaching, the lanterns around town rapidly spread their mild light to paint the river in a scenic shade of yellow. Jackson picked up the habit of playing with her wild strands, curling them back and forth on his fingers.

“I always suspected you to be the romantic type, but I guess you have to see it with your own eyes to believe.”

“Ah me? I’m rusty as hell.”

Jo snuggled closer. Jackson put the mask on his face aside and placed a kiss to the crown of her hair.

“You’re doing just fine.”

The inflexions of the water traversed an invisible line only to surrender to the edges of their shared gondola. The night sky hinted at a full spectacle of the moon.

Jackson broke the otherwise comfortable silence. His voice lowered in an intimate tone, raspier but cozier all the same. “Do you think you’ll be working for long? In the future?”

“I have so many things I have yet to reach, so I think it’s hustle mode for a while. My next objective is to be listed in the Forbes 30 under 30 America. Any useful tips, from someone who’s already been there?”

“I don’t know. I guess I never really thought about it. I worked hard every day, and it just came naturally.”

Jo rolled her eyes. Not that Jackson would see it. “How did I never think about that?”

They laughed. “And what’s after that?”

She hummed. “It’s quite difficult to put into words, actually. I don’t know how you feel about it, but I think there will come a point when I’ll be able to say oh, I’m satisfied with everything I’ve achieved and it’s time for me to build on something beyond this. I’m not saying I want to retire forever necessarily, but at some point, I’ll pass my business down to someone. I don’t know what that is yet.”

Jo felt him hug tighter. She continued.

“I want to grow a farm. I’d love my kids to grow up with their feet in the grass, with three or four dogs to run around, fall and get dirty, get up and climb stuff. I want them to know nature and bask in it. And I want to have an orchard, and grow vegetables—"

“I’ll marry you.”

She paused for a fraction of a moment, then resumed. “Maybe if I have dogs, I’ll also have horses. And some chickens would be nice.”

Jackson’s loud outburst of laughter had her straighten her body to look at him. He caught his cheek in the palm of his hand, cocking an eyebrow at her. “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

Jo had a confused look about her features. “Right, I did. Not the first time I ever heard it though.”

The bold moonlight bathed Jackson’s face in a divine display of sentiments, colors and unspoken emotions, so much so that the tiniest piece of Jo’s soul chased after his proposition. The veil of certainty portrayed over his whole being provoked her heart to pick up the beat.

“Go on, keep underestimating me. Makes me even more motivated to prove you wrong.”

The previous weekend’s events came across as a dream to Jo, who was back in her Seoul home, fighting her most terrifying monsters to keep focused on the actual work she had to complete. She was constantly twitching a pen between her fingers, her only anchor in the mundane of her meetings. Eyes were constantly drifting to her phone, keeping watch of the moment Jackson would write to her. Luckily, the busiest days were Monday and Tuesday only, and by the time she greeted the middle of the week, most of her urgent responsibilities had been taken care of.

She was editing her dance session with Jackson when an unknown number called.

“Hello?”

A familiar voice spoke in Korean on the other line. “Ah, hello, Jo-ssi? It’s Jaebum. Is this a good time?”

With very little time given to grow accustomed to the Korean culture, it still felt strange to use honorifics with Jaebum. In her mind, she grew up with the Got7 members.

“Yes, hello, Jaebum-ssi. Perfectly fine! Jackson mentioned you’d call today. It’s better to speak over the phone anyway.”

“Great then! I’m more old-fashioned that way too.”

Jo chuckled. She was genuinely happy Jackson had such good people in his life.

“Actually, if you are at home and you would be comfortable with it, could we switch to facetiming? I’d rather see the model of your camera and ask you to go through a couple of configurations.”

There was a short pause on Jaebum’s end.

“We don’t have to, and it’s totally fine! I guess it’s a professional defect of mine to see the people I’m talking to.”

“Ah no, no trouble really. Jinyoung is with me, and I asked him to pick up the camera. One moment, I’ll call you again.”

Jo switched to her laptop to pick up the call on her MacBook. Both Jaebum and Jinyoung dipped their heads in polite bows, and she immediately followed suit. The kind smiles on both faces proved they were much more relaxed than Jo expected. She was proud with herself for putting on makeup earlier that morning.

 “Much better! Nice to see you too, Jinyoung-ssi.”

“Likewise,” he offered. “Hyung had a lot of things planned and we hoped we could sort them out with you.”

Jo tested the waters with a joke. “I think we can plot all the scripts we want to plot. In the end, most of it is bound to be freestyle.”

It was well received; if Jinyoung smiled, then the initiation was complete.

“We can try.” Jaebum replied with a chuckle. “We know that we are an open book at this point.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

So, the three of them planned a sequence of events around three cakes, the indispensable game of rock-paper-scissors, a free talking segment, and a custom freestyle section dedicated to the fans. They discussed a couple of decorations to bring to the location of the filming site, and subsequently the party, which Youngjae and Bambam agreed to be at the same house where they threw Mark’s birthday celebrations.

Jinyoung appeared satisfied with the outcome. “That should do it then. Let’s see how much of it goes as planned.”

Jaebum grabbed at his chin, as if seriously measuring the chances of success. “I’d say, 75%? 80% maybe. What do you think, Jo-ssi?”

Jo mirrored his actions. “75% is generous, but I’ll keep my fingers crossed for it!”

“I told you hyung, you were stressing out too much to plan this. I agree with her.”

“Aish, what should we even do then?”

Jinyoung pointed at the other as he cussed out, and Jaebum covered his mouth with the back of his hand. Jo giggled and waved it away.

“Asia song festival you meant?”

Both were shocked she knew such an old, but very relevant still, meme of theirs. Jo laughed along with their snickers.

Jinyoung had to recognize talent when he saw it. “She’s good, hyung. Really good.”

“Aside from everything else, do you have a tripod and a soft box maybe? Even a ring light could do the trick. I’ll need to set up good lighting because I remember the house coloring was dark.”

“I don’t have a soft box, unfortunately. I think I had a medium sized ring light though, I’ll go search for it. I’ll leave Jinyoung with you to test out the camera settings.”

“Shouldn’t be too expensive to rent one, should it?” Jinyoung questioned as he opened the camera bag. Jo was ecstatic to see Jaebum had a Sony Alpha 7R Mirrorless, and, at a wild guess, it looked to be a 2024 model even.

“Let’s go baby! I like what I’m seeing, we’ll do wonders with this thing.”

Jinyoung laughed and unpacked the lens right after. “I take it you’re a Sony fan, then?”

Jo practically clapped her hands upon noticing the Sony FE 24-70mm F2.8 GM II lens. “It’s personal preference, really. My first camera was a Sony and even though the settings menu can be quite a pain to navigate sometimes, I feel like it offers best value for money. I have 6 different lens types I use, based on the context. I have this one, too.”

Jinyoung listened attentively. “I use Canon, personally. I don’t think I ever had trouble shooting the frames I wanted to with it. I do agree it’s gotten more expensive to buy their gear recently.”

“Right, again, I can say I’m biased. I’m familiar with Canon and I shot a good number of events with their gadgets, but I guess I like the depth and the rawness of the pictures I take with the Sony lens, if it makes sense. That lens that Jaebum-ssi has, it’s pretty good for day-to-day activities, wide shots, and it’s marvelous in low light. I would guess this is why he bought it as well.”

“I see. Maybe I’ll give it a try on Saturday. Who knows how I might change my mind about it. But I’m an amateur, really, so I cannot pretend I know that much about the topic as you do.”

Jo chuckled. The prince of Got7 for all the valid reasons. “My sister is an avid Canon lover. We always have debates about which is best and how to compare the models between brands. If you’re interested, I can give you her contact to chat about it. She’s a walking pedia.”

Jinyoung’s eyes widened in curiosity. “You have a sister? I didn’t know.”

“How could you?” smiled Jo. “She’s a senior in Stanford. Her name is Catalina.”

“So, I found it, but it’s not as medium sized as I thought.” Jaebum’s voice echoed through the speakers, and Jinyoung turned to look at him. It was, indeed, a rather smaller sized ring light. The latter’s interest tacitly vanished with the leader’s appearance. “We should really rent a soft box, I guess. How did the setup go?”

“There was no need for this exercise. Jo-ssi knows your equipment inside out.”

“I suggest renting two soft boxes, to make sure the light is symmetrical on both sides. And this ring will be put to good use as well, I need to supplement the camera light anyway. Cables and all that stuff I have, I’ll need to connect the camera to the laptop to edit real-time, so we don’t need those.”

Jaebum took notes on a paper he had in proximity. “Noted. Let us know if you need anything else. I’ll make some calls to see what’s the best place to rent the equipment.”

“Perfect then! I don’t think we need anything else particularly. Now, if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I have one more meeting to take care of for the day. Oh, and I hope we’ll drop the formalities soon!”

The rest of the day flew by imperceptibly. Jo’s last meeting went as well as it could have and, to keep the momentum going, she finished editing the choreography video she shot with Jackson. They decided together that they would surprise the team, as much as possible, and post it officially on Saturday morning. In the meantime, Samantha had called her to ask if she wanted to join her, Mark, Jonathan and Leena at the Seoul garage bar. Jonathan had discovered on a different occasion that the location hosted karaoke nights once a week, such as the night when Jo and Max sang on stage.

Jo was interested to find out the secret of how three of the most dependable surgeons in SMP managed to sync their off time schedules, and how it could be translated to daily activities in other industries if possible. It couldn’t hurt to investigate if the Universe could be maneuvered to give her and Jackson a well-deserved break at the same time. Preferably somewhere hot, on a beach with clear waters, that funneled the passion to carry other adjoining activities.

Jo packed a makeup bag to bring her necessities over to Samantha’s house in her vicinity, where they elected to get ready like the old girly times. Except Mark unequivocally accepted to be the third wheel, on Samantha’s well known living room couch, and most he could do was call Bambam on the side to help pass the time. Jo chuckled as they met, admiring his resilience.

“Do you need anything, ladies? A refresher, something to eat maybe?” Mark chirped from the living room, and Sam laughed at his inquiry.

“No, babe, we’ll let you know. Thanks!”

“Poor guy,” Jo giggled as she blended her blush. “Good thing Bambam picked up to keep him company.”

Because Mark was facetiming Bam and he was on speaker, the girls could hear his voice from the other room. “That’s no big deal. We take just as much time to get ready to go on stage. You’re used to it, Mark.”

“I’m not worried one bit. I’m not in a hurry to go anywhere. This couch is pretty comfortable.”

Bambam wiggled his eyebrows, but Mark cut him off before he had the chance to comment anything inappropriate. “Be careful with your words.”

“One of these days, you’re bound to hear it anyway. Better hear it when I’m not drunk! Ah, which reminds me,” Bambam cleared his throat to lightly shout. Mark detached the phone from his face just in time. “HEY J!! DID YOU LIKE THE DJ WE HAD FOR MARK’S BIRTHDAY?”

Jo and Samantha looked at one another and burst in giggles.

“He asked me the same thing earlier, but I guess he needs all the validation he can get. It’s his dignity on the line. Also, J? What’s that about?”

Jo walked to the living room, gesturing for Mark to give an explanation. “It’s Jo’s code name.”

“I’m jealous now! Do I have one?”

Jo approached Mark and received his phone. Only one of her cheeks was dyed with the rosy hue of the blush.

Bambam gave a thumbs up. “Ohhh, that’s pretty! Based.”

“Thanks, Bam! Yeah, DJ was cool, I liked his mixes. Why? You want to bring someone else?”

“Not really. I just wanted real opinions not some we don’t really care, you know best bullshit.”

“You know that Jaebum and Jinyoung don’t give a flying fuck about that as long as we have good music.” Mark commented, and Jo returned his phone.

“Pretty hypocritical if you ask me! How am I supposed to know if we have good music if you don’t tell me, you liked it or not!”

Jo wiggled her makeup brush in the air as she walked back to Samantha’s bedroom. “That’s fair.”

“J, huh? What are you now, 007?”

Jo pushed the other playfully with her shoulder. “He and Yugyeom stalked me on Instagram. I can only assume they dissected me in their group chat.”

“Welcome to the club!” Samantha scoffed. “Anyway, how’s Jackson? Is he coming tonight?”

“No, he’s not,” pouted Jo. “He’s not in Korea. I think he’s flying out here tomorrow. We chatted a bit earlier.”

All the sounds coming from the living room came to a suspicious halt. If the women didn’t know any better, they would say the boys were listening in for gossip. Jo carried on.

“I spoke to the Jae boys earlier about Saturday. When we talked about the camera gear setup and all that, a sudden cascade of missing Catalina washed over me.”

“Oh, so cute! How’s the little one doing? It’s been ages since I saw her last!”

“Not so little anymore,” Jo quipped and grabbed her highlighter. “She’s the splitting image of our mother now. I took whatever was American from dad, and she took all the hot Spanish genes from mom.”

“What, you have a sister?” Mark asked and detached the phone from his face again.

Bambam’s voice strained in a scream. “You have a sister, J? What’s her Instagram?”

Jo laughed. “She’s off limits, Bam!”

“Aww, where’s the fun in that? I was just curious, that’s all. At least tell us what’s her name.”

“Heard that one before.” Samantha remarked and applied her transparent lip gloss. “Catalina’s a Gemini, you’re not a good match.”

Mark translated the message from the other room. “Sam said Catalina’s a Gemini and you’re not a good match.”

“If it’s not written in the stars, there’s nothing I can really do about it.”

“What’s a good match with Gemini though?” Mark asked in return.

Samantha started cleaning the makeup stand where a significant assortment of products lay everywhere. Jo only had to do the last touches of her look before the group was ready to leave.

“Hmm, Virgos are the bast match, I think? Am I wrong Jo?”

“Hell if I know. What are we even doing here on behalf of my sister, who very much lives in San Francisco?”

Mark carried his translator duty once more. Whether he would admit it or not, he was invested in the scheme. “Sam says Virgos.”

“Who’s a Virgo in our group? Let’s see.” Bambam inspected the issue at hand on his phone. “So, you are a Virgo. Youngjae hyung is a Virgo…” he made a devilish pause. Not that the girls could notice it. “Jinyoung hyung is a Virgo.”

“Flowers could bloom in winter before we play cupid for Jinyoung.”

“Matches were made for less.”

Jo turned to Samantha, “What the hell are they doing, quoting Bridgerton now?”

“Boys will be boys. They’ll forget it in the morning.” Samantha walked out to the living room. “Hey babe, is Jinyoung coming with us to the bar?”

“Nope. He told me in some eloquent words that he doesn’t want to be the eighth wheel to the car.”

“Can’t really blame him. This is why we must find him a woman.”

Seoul Garage Bar was bustling with people. The bar seemed to be at full capacity, and Jo was glad she insisted Jonathan make a reservation. When the three of them arrived, Jonathan and Leena had been waiting for a short while. They indulged two cocktails as starters, which Jonathan later clarified about his that it was non-alcoholic since he was on call for emergency duty.

“Hello, cuties!” Jo greeted Leena with a kiss on the cheek. “You two are so adorable together.”

Mark shook Jonathan’s hand amicably, and Samantha was visibly delighted the two men were in better graces. Jo sat by Samantha’s side, and the chair to her right remained empty. Once a third wheel, always a third wheel. A waiter appeared at their table soon after to take their orders, and Jo negotiated with Leena to share a pizza.

“So, are you singing anything for us tonight, Jo?” Mark broke the ice, capturing his glass of beer. He complimented Jonathan’s choice.

Jo chuckled, twirling the straw in her Cosmopolitan. “News travels fast around these parts, huh?”

“It’s so funny to me a singing and dancing Jo still comes as a shock for everyone else.” Jonathan clinked his glass against Mark’s. “We were always first row at her plays in college.”

“I had that paperboard painted with #1 fan here! That was so exhausting to hold, really.”

Leena smiled. “You guys promised me you’d show me that Spanish piece that had recruiters banging at her door.”

“That’s a long time ago,” Jo waved her hand in dismissal. “My voice is not even half as good now. We used to do constant vocal coaching back then. I almost got kicked out of a programming exam because I was humming the damn exercises.”

The group vibrated with high spirits. Mark’s phone lit up between the lines, just as the bar’s host invited people to sign up for the ongoing karaoke session. He couldn’t have asked for better synchronization. Mark gestured with his hand to keep Jo’s attention to him. Their table was situated in opposition to the door, so she had no way to spot anyone who would approach.

“Now or never, Jo! I bet they’ll let you open the night with how successful you were the other day.”

“Ah, I don’t know, guys. I’ll think about it.”

“What if I ask nicely?”

Jo abruptly turned at the all-familiar voice that strung at her heart in the most divine accords. She bounced from her chair to circle her arms around his neck and immerse in his warmth. Jackson caught her right away, a secure hand holding her back, with the other knitted over her middle. In her doll pump heels, Jo matched Jackson’s height, and it was toxic to the depths of the soul to deny their reunion kiss. She was the epitome of purity, in her straight dark midi dress, adorned with a dazzling white puff-sleeved shirt, which tied an imposing ribbon at her collarbone. He gathered every miserable ounce of restraint to only kiss her temple, hugging her as closely as humanly possible.

Jackson lingered to whisper in the intimacy of her ear. “You’re absolutely beautiful, princess. I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too, Jackson. So much.”

The two had to break their embrace prematurely, in an empty satisfaction of stolen fervid glances and suble touches.  

“Thank God Jackson,” Samantha complained as she high fived him. “What the fuck reason could I have given her to have her dolled up like this?”

Mark moved forward to hug his brother. “Me and Bam almost fucked up. Don’t plan surprises with us next time.”

“If not you, who can I plan with?” Jackson laughed and extended his arm over the table to shake Jonathan’s. “Nice to see you again, Jonathan.” Then smiling to the man’s darling. “Leena, a pleasure.”

Jackson intended to pull Jo’s chair, but she delicately refused. “You ganged up on me like this, and I think I can call you my friends? Now I have to go sign up for a song. Excuse me.”

“Attagirl.” Jackson brushed his hand over the small of her back. He sat in the formerly empty chair next to Jo’s, jolting his wrist to arrange his accessories around it. A waiter brought his whiskey on the rocks at the table. Jackson followed Jo through the crowd with his eyes until she reached the DJ’s booth.

“So, how’s everyone doing?”

“Stressed out,” Samantha chuckled, then sipped from her Mojito. “I wanted to tell her so badly that you were joining us.”

“Good thing me and Bam plotted Jinyoung’s romance to keep silent about your arrival.”

Jonathan chuckled. “You must chill out, my dudes. We’ll have all of y’all married by the end of next year at this pace.”

Jackson relaxed in his chair, draping an arm over Jo’s chair. “You absolutely have to tell me who we’re pairing Jinyoung with.”

Samantha sipped again from her cocktail, an eyebrow cocked at the question. “Jo’s sister apparently.”

“Shut up.” Jackson’s eyes widened, threatening to escape out of their orbits. He leaned over the table to look at Mark. “How did you come up with this shit, Mark?”

“Keep it in the family quite literally.” Leena snickered and Jonathan facepalmed himself.

“Don’t look at me like that, Jacks,” Mark began his defense. “Bam had this incentive to look up her Instagram, then unfortunately Sam said their star signs don’t match.”

She shrugged her shoulders defensively. “Allegedly.”

Mark continued. “Thanks, babe. And yeah, Virgo apparently matches well with Gemini. And Catalina is a Gemini, you guys do the math.”

“Shut up!” Jackson repeated and took the glass of whiskey in his hand. He looked at the others. “What star sign is Jo?”

Jonathan cackled over the other’s question. “Too late to back down now.”

Samantha glared at Jonathan. Then turned to Jackson. “She’s a July Leo. As it happens, she is your best match by the stars.”

A rambunctious round of applause caused the group to focus their attention on the stage, where Jo was being presented by the bar host. Jackson clapped as loud as he managed, a noble smile decorating his features. He could make eye contact with Jo directly from where he was sitting. She switched to Korean, encouraged by the host to say a few words.

“Good evening, everyone! You might remember me from last week, when I sang APT.”

Jo waited for another round of applause to die down. There were a couple of familiar faces in the crowd, yet all she focused on was Jackson’s encouraging grin. She almost giggled at the heart he boasted with his hands.

“Mr. Kang here allowed me to open the night, so I must apologize because the song I chose to sing is not so upbeat. I was happy to hear that one of the talented members of the band knows how to play it on this piano behind me. This is Für Elise.”

Samantha peeked at Jackson who was already disconnected from the surrounding world, in full focus to the woman who became the center of attention. If there was any blatant love song characteristic of Jo’s style, Für Elise was the obvious love confession choice. Just as her eyes wondered to the door, she caught a glimpse at Max, leaning against the doorframe, in a company of four unknown figures. Samantha kicked Jonathan under the table, whose forehead furrowed.

“What was that for?”

He convinced himself of the fact when he followed Samantha’s gaze to the entrance. Mark leaned closer to his beau. “What’s going on?”

“Max is here.”

The piano’s incipient notes tamed the background noise of the bar until it was nonexistent. A various collection of phones had already been aimed at Jo.

I'll dance / I'll dance like a puppet on your string / I'll sing when you order me to sing—

With each passing tone, a mellow glimmer began rooting in Jackson’s eyes, as much as it began nourishing in his soul.

You're so musical, an artist / You make a lie sound like it's true

You're unusual, creative / Oh, what I'd do to be your muse —

Jo’s eyes locked with her lover’s. “You are.” Jackson murmured under his breath; in fear any louder sound would break the porcelain equilibrium in the bar.

I'll jump / I'll jump, if you ask, I'll say, "How high?"

I'll run like a shiver down your spine / For you, I would give you my own life—

Leena was swift enough to capture a short video of the intimate moment, of Jackson admiring Jo as she poured her heart out to the audience. She remembered Samantha talking to her about the fairytale connection Jo and Max had shared at one point during their lives. Leena thought she was wrong; the connection she shared with Jackson was incomparable, needless of any words.

The last part of the song was arranged in a series of high notes and head-chest voice, that had the gallery holding their breaths. Mark observed Jackson and smirked to himself. Smitten was a shy word.

Won't you play me like / Play me like my name is Für Elise.

As the piano played its last chord, a short moment of absolute silence engulfed the room. Then, the audience erupted in an impassioned round of cheers that took everyone by surprise. Jackson had no reaction initially. How could he, as mere spectator to Jo’s grandeur?

Leena was the first to break the table’s quiet. “There is no way Jo had not practiced in a while. I won’t believe her if she tells me that she wakes up with that voice of hers.”

“To think we’ve heard that before is crazy.” Jonathan doubled up on his girlfriend.

All eyes shifted to the obscure presence at the other end of their table, where Jackson was sitting. The latter noticed Mark’s eyes lifting in a vigilant action, so Jackson pursued his friend’s gaze. A taller figure, with a sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips, was leaning against the wooden surface.

“She’s absolutely divine, muy bella, isn’t she?”

Previous chapter

[luvo27]

i have thought a LOT about how i like to write cass in my fics so here's one of the thoughts:

one thing that i do on purpose when writing from cass's pov is not use the babs or steph nicknames in the narration and this is something that i thought about because if i'm writing in steph's pov, i'll use the steph nickname from time to time but i don't use it for cass. i love love love love the scott puckett batgirl run, and one thing that really makes it unique to me is the lack of cass's narration and yes this is because she doesn't know english for a bit but even afterwards it's still fairly minimal, and there's very much the question of like, how on earth do you translate this very visual character into a written medium? the idea is like, trying to distance the narrator's voice from cass's voice. it's fun in a sense of like, i cant draw and use art to show how cass's thoughts work and how she connects things in her mind, but i can get the narrator to describe her thoughts even if in words not her own so cass might call stephanie by the nickname steph, but the narrator wouldn't, and all of the narration is like a second hand translation of what's actually happening in cass's head and sometimes it's more connected to cass's voice and sometimes it's less connected and i don't know if this is making any sense at all. basically if i were ever going to write a cass comic i think i'd write the narration in 3rd person most of the time

[runnnrunnnrunn]

Subconscious Multiple-POV

I don't mean to do it. It just happens. Every time I wanna write a fanfic it automatically becomes multi-POV story. But not normal POV, but like a narrator who comes from their perspective. So more than just a POV, but not fully 3rd person. I can't tell if it's any good or not. How does it read to others??? How does this even make sense?? Is this normal?

T-T''

[askbrahmsheelshire]

hi!! i wanted to ask for a Brahms x gender neutral reader writing drabble! can you please write brahms with an s/o who has been drawing him a lot and accidentally finds their sketchbook on their desk? thank you!

ᴼᶠ ᶜᵒᵘʳˢᵉᵎᵎᵎ ᴵ ᵉⁿᵈᵉᵈ ᵘᵖ ᵐᵃᵏᶦⁿᵍ ᶦᵗ ˡᵒⁿᵍᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᶦⁿᵗᵉⁿᵗᵉᵈ ˡᵒˡ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ

Brahms x GN! Reader Warnings: Posessiveness, Consensual but Not Safe or Sane, Minor Sexual Content POV: 3rd Person Limited, Brahms Perspective

His fingertips glide across the cheek of his porcelain mask, riding the ridges of the lips that are cracked from years of wear. His eyes glance down to a discarded book, pages haphazardly flipped open. It feels odd, this flipped dynamic.

Being watched, that is.

His eyes are used to watching them through the cracks in the walls; from behind this mask he’s worn since the fire tore through his flesh. Being a predator hungry for its’ prey, hiding and concealing himself in the shadows.

He’s felt their eyes on his hulking frame every day this week, marking and etching into the paper of the moleskin they carry. Sitting in the parlor, behind the kitchen counters… In bed, as he stares down at them through this ceramic facade. Their eyes, locked onto his mask, trying to see through it. Scanning and memorizing, marking and recording.

More than a dozen different sketches of his own face and body lined and shaded are littered throughout the pages. These sketches show everything— the angry burns that crawl down from beneath his mask and onto his shoulder, his relentless body hair, the brown ringlets of his hair that frizz out and go straight in mismatched places.

He didn’t realize he’s been this thoroughly…examined. While he was busy recording their curves into his memory, their every movement throughout his home repeated like a mantra in his head, they were busy doing the same. His chest… His eyes behind his mask…The folds and draping of his clothes against his body. The unmistaken straining of his pants.

He can’t help but groan, wetting his lips to the physical desire of his lover leaking off the page. His thoughts becoming more and more muddied the more he sees his lust reflected back on the rough textured paper.

A creak of the staircase, barely audible, hits his ears. He knows every weakpoint in the old floorboards of this home to recognize when his lover is making their way up the stairs. Like a sixth sense.

His body catches them before even a squeak can escape their throat. Moving like a shadow across the floorboards of the bedroom to the opening door, just a gust of wind hits their face before they see him there. A hand reaches out, stopping the door’s swinging movement and pinning their bodies together against its’ frame. He looms over them, faces mere inches away. It’s only then do they find the air returning to their lungs, eyes wide in shock, finally seeing him there before them.

That look— that desperation! In the short time he’s had them here as his new plaything, he can still get this kind of reaction from them! That sort of desperation and fear when startled and backed into a corner, primal and animalistic. It’s intoxicating, it’s all his! Mine, mine, mine, he thinks.

“Gh— Brahms…! God, you scared me—” The blush errupts across their face, beautiful, hot blood, taking over the color on their cheeks. Their eyes whip from his mask straight to the scene of the crime, the mistakenly discarded notebook that lay open on the dresser. Whines and whispers of an animal pinned down by the teeth of a predator croak from their lips, followed by an embarrassed and nervous smile. “I didn’t mean to leave that out.”

Cute.

Cute, cute cute. Cute!

Their breath is uneven, shoulders shaking at every inhale, heart thrumming like a small little hummingbird. He moves in closer, God, he can’t control it, moving his face into the crook of their neck and his breath pounding on the inside of the ceramic. It’s like he can taste the blood on his lips through the thin skin of their neck. That racing pulse, drumming, drumming, drumming under their jaw is enough to make him faint.

“Did you see everything?” They ask, smugness and pride playing on their lips, despite their nervousness and embarrassment. Had they left it out on purpose? Was it meant to entice him, a game they've devised for his amusement? He loves these kinds of games.

He doesn’t answer, just breathes in their hot breath and scent, porcelain cold against the sensitive lobes of their ears. Shaking like a poor deer caught in the scope of a hunter’s rifle. It’s more fun this way, forcing information out of them, making them think they’re giving it up on purpose. Entice, sit, wait.

“You’re just beautiful, Brahms. I can’t help but draw you.” They smile, still shivering and swaying like long, wild grass. A spark of indignation flickers when he doesn't deny looking at their drawings, "It's only fair. You stare at me all the time."

His voice, high and wrong for a man his age, “You don’t like when I stare?” A hint of a smirk on his real lips.

“I didn’t say that!"

A quick retort, almost too loud for how close they are to one another.

That look—! The desperation for his approval, their fear and exhilaration. Their eyes cast down quickly, embarrassed by how quickly they needed to clarify.

He needs it. To the core of his being, he craves it.

The saliva pooling under his tongue is overwhelming as his eyes dart across their features. He swallows hard.

A whimper rushes past their lips. “I’m sorry, Brahms,” they apologize, voice light and unsteady. “I didn’t mean for you to find it, I—” A startled squeak as his hands find the sides of their face, thumbs nestled on the skin of their temples, stroking and smoothing the skin there. His grip forces their eyes to meet.

“Why?” He finds his voice, too delicate, too unstable. They didn’t want him to see? Why not? Hasn’t he been good? He knows he’s been good, he’s been nothing but obedient. He’s good, he’s good, so then why? Why, why, why?!

Their eyes shine with something he can’t place— something he can’t understand. He’s good, he’s been so fucking good.

“I didn’t mean it that way.” Their hand rests on his chest, rubbing smooth, small circles. God, that feels good. Good. Good. He’s so good. “I didn’t mean for you to just… stumble upon it.”

His fingers tighten their hold, scratching the line of hair on their neck, sending a shiver straight down their spine. “And how would you have wanted me to find it?”

Their breath hitches, eyes wide as they look into the empty eyes of his mask. “I… I wanted to show you. I wanted to show you how I see you.”

“Show me,” he whispers, his hands releasing their grasp moving down, down, down to grip their waist.

“Show me how you see me.”

[uwudonoodle]

I'm writing one character who is highly educated and very well read, so has a large vocabulary. I'm writing another character who, while isn't stupid, is less so. I feel like I'm somewhere in the middle and struggle to write both of them.

[appalachianapologies]

my favorite dialogue tag to use for BJ will always be "... he lied" and "Lying, BJ said, ..." like yeah that's just canon. this man has never once told anything even adjacent to the truth when it comes to anything personal

[nevermatchandscpsradadventures]

[helianthus21]

“Near 500 years full of stories to tell. You think I should've dedicated my life book to you instead, Daniel Molloy? You think your effect on me to be greater than Delhi or Venice or Paris?” He spat his words at Daniel. “I didn’t write it for you!”“I know!” Daniel yelled back, and the desperation wrapped up in his ire caught Armand off-guard. 

post-madness Daniel reads The Vampire Armand and decides to seek out his maker

[stygiansauce]

Some of the above is SO RIGHT. So in this response, please remember OP ( @cruxofitall )has banger analysis. I am kicking my feet, I love when you guys put on your thinking hats.

Tango still has a life after Jimmy. He does focus on how much he (and his family) sacrificed for him to go to school and use his big brain, and because of that he knows his purpose.

The thing here, is that Tango would willingly give up his friendships if it means Jimmy gets to keep them. He would continue with his life and keep his one friend (Zed) (and lets be honest, TIES are not letting Tango go. even Tango's worst case senario is impossible. His friends have big enough hearts to love both Tango and Jimmy), and his degree and keep going. He would survive after Jimmy.

Tango is used to making sacrifices. That's his thing. He gives up parts of himself so he can succeed. He doesn't play about his education. Even if he and Jimmy break up, he has his education. That's the only constant because it's one he built himself.

Also on this: Tango has shown in just these four chapters that Jimmy is different for him. Jimmy is something worth sacrificing for.

Tango's views about love stem from his parents. His parents and their perfect love story. His parents that value love just as much as other things in life.

There is a very high chance that Tango would throw everything away for Jimmy. The question, is if Jimmy would let him.

THANKS FOR COMING TO MY TEK TALK!!! BACK TO THE ESSAY GRIND (9 more if I don't care so hard about my grade ahahaha!)

[frankenjoly]

A series of un-fortunate events

behold: the promised sskk from kunikida's pov fic

Read here.