fluffismyoxyjin

chat… I feel my writing fingers itching again… 

Well, now I know how to write heartbreak at least. 

do you still write strictly platonic? I miss it so much!! I read it like last year on an old account (I don't know if you remembered but I commented like 600 comments lol)

Yall… it finally happened. After 19 years of living. I finally got a boyfriend. I got a boyfriend before my characters officially got together. Let that sink in. 

I haven’t been on wattpad for like years and your book is one i constantly think about. I don’t know if you remember me, but i loved your writing style. Cant wait to re-read yours soon. <3

Updated the character drawings!!!

WAITTT YALLLLL OVER 5k VOTES?!!! TYSM bruhhh i need to finish writing 15 pls 

how much aura did I lose when I cried three times in one ep of Reply 1988 bc I related too much to the main character so I had to stop watching the series bc it was too relatable and too real 

Hi Fluffie. Noticed you haven't been online and posting messages on you board lately. Are you doing ok? >w<

I feel bad that I haven’t had the time to write. So here’s a little excerpt from the new chapter that’s in progress:
          
          We stared at each other for a long time, but unlike earlier, it was not in awkward silence. His hand was lightly caressing my upper arm. Just how long had he waited for this? I put my shaky fingers to his swollen, reddened lips (that probably mirrored my own) and asked, “Why?”
          
          “Why? Do I need a reason why?” He hadn’t stopped grinning.
          
          I lightly brushed his cheeks, with those boyish freckles that littered his skin. I think I might have described them as stars in a clear night sky in the past. But, they are the product of the sun, aren’t they?
          
           If I wasn’t kissing him, it was the sun’s doing in these little speckles. If it wasn’t me being sweet, it was the flecks of brown sugar pinched on his nose bridge, his cheeks, his forehead, his neck, his collarbones, his hands, his legs. If he didn’t have his freckles, it was like brushing the cinnamon off cinnamon toast.
          
          “No. Why do you make me feel this way?” I have never been so poetic before.