garden of roses (ohshc oneshots)

♡ writer's block

(F/a) = Favorite Author

You ripped the page out of your notebook, crunched it into a ball, and threw it across your room where other paper balls were piling up. "It's only three days away, (F/n), think!" you mumbled to yourself as you rubbed your temples with your palms. Your elbows rested on your desk.

You were in a writer's contest, and what you had to do was write a short story, the minimum pages being two. The category being romance. You were a hopeless romance, having a boyfriend and reading too many romance books and all, but you don't. . .really. . .know how to write a story. Okay, so you do know how to write one, being an experienced writer with two published books already. But you. . .

It's really hard for you explain it, how you write. For your other two books, the ideas for it just flowed in your mind. You knew who your characters are, what you want them to do, and the outcome of their actions. You were creating a world that you can control. And after finishing it, you had this warm feeling inside of accomplishment, like you won something. It was a great feeling.

Now, you can't think of anything. The pressure of having this short story completed in three days is weighing down on you, and it's leaving you anticipating and overthinking too much. You wanted this story to be perfect because the winner will get a chance to write a book in collaboration with (F/a). It's an opportunity of a lifetime, and you didn't want to miss it. You wanted to create a piece of literature that's original, that stands out from other short romance books. It needs to be something that everyone will be able to read.

Because of your overthinking, you didn't notice someone standing in front of you until two large hands slammed on your desk. You were startled by this and your eyes immediately darted up to the owner of those hands.

"Takashi," you greeted your boyfriend, who hovered slightly above you with his tall height and was staring at you intently.

"I was standing here for more than ten minutes," Mori deadpanned.

Scratching the back of your head, you sheepishly mumbled a sorry before picking up your pencil. You were about to write again when your pencil suddenly slipped out of your grip. "Takashi!" You jumped out of your chair to get your pencil back from Mori, but he stretch his arm up, giving you a disadvantage.

Damn his tallness. . .

"(F/n), stop," Mori commanded, his stare unwavering from your face. It sent shivers down your spine, but you were confused.

"Stop what?" you asked. Your eyebrows furrowed.

"You're stressing yourself out again."

You slumped back into your seat, and Mori set the pencil back on your desk. You buried your face into your hands. I need to submit my story in three days, I can't waste anytime! I didn't even write a single word yet! Oh man, oh man, oh man. . .

So maybe you were stressed, but that's what fuels you to think. . .maybe. You don't know. You just wanted to have this story completed and good enough for you to win and meet (F/a)!

"Takashi, why am I a terrible writer?" You found yourself confessing to your boyfriend, your hands still covering your face. "The story's due in three days, a-and I still don't have an idea yet. Why are all my ideas not good enough? Was I not meant to write? Now I'll never be able to meet (F/a). I'm such a-"

Mori pried your hands away from your face to see you tearing up from mixed emotions you couldn't explain. "Hey," he said, "never think of yourself so lowly. You're better than that. Never think you have to be a great writer for those who read your work. Because you're only a great writer when you and the people you love believe that you are one." His head rested on yours. "I believe in you, (F/n), so you're a great writer."