#also hi i'm here!! but debating if i should do some chores before i let myself write... but i wanna have fun since i was at class today ;;;

[tvrningout-a]

one of these days, i'm gonna do a nice, organized photoset of the kind of clothes rin wears bc she's either very extravagant or very practical -- sometimes kinda in between actually?? like wearing very fancy-looking boots that are actually very durable and well-worn, but she takes good care of her things, so they look good. what she wears truly just depends on the setting and situation, like if she's on a job and has to blend in vs. when she's leisurely walking around the dwarven cities with del and co.

and she's always wearing a shirt and pants!! never dresses!! dresses are comfortable and pretty, but they're just not for her. she prefers to walk the line of what society would consider masculine and feminine in fashion. rin will show up to a formal event in a suit and fancy eyeliner and dangly earrings and high heels. she'll walk around in a blouse that's half unbuttoned ( just enough to hint at the curves of her chest beneath ) and cinched at the waist by a waist corset with very detailed stitching.

generally, i feel like rin considers herself boyishly handsome vs. straight up pretty, so she tries to dress herself accordingly. you could probably convince her to wear a dress? but she's not gonna feel as attractive in a dress as she will in pants and a fancy shirt. it's just not her vibe in her opinion uvu

[itsjaywalkers]

hi lovey how are you <3

it's late—like,,,4am late—and im somehow spewing out actual sentences BUT i have a question and i've been debating on how to start this whole thing so ill just say fuck it n get it out there—how do you keep up with all your wips??? bc like,,,,i've started writing, and i LOVE it. it's so fun to have these ideas finally out in word format instead of just stuck in my head.

but i have a really bad habit of starting smth n then...moving on to smth else when inspiration strikes. i occasionally go back to what i was originally writing, but even then it doesn't last long before im starting a whole new story 😭 im a little peeved as i've completely abandoned this one writing i slaved away at for days abt the backstory of one of my ocs—im somewhat proud of it n i don't want to just not get back into it.

as i write this, im currently staring at my laptop as i churn out yet another story of said oc (along with multiple other ocs myself n a friend made together) n im just,,,perplexed?? i suppose, on how so many fic writers keep up with all their wips.

i realize now that im just droning on n on so ill end here. writing is a bitch but also feels me with accomplishment when i do end up finishing smth, so i was just curious as to how you work around wips n things like that.

hello darling, i'm okay!! kinda dreading today's shift, but it is what it is. how are u tho??

and to be honest with u, i don't keep up with my wips like . at all . i do try to maintain some order, and sometimes i forbid myself from working on a story in favour of focusing on another one, but it doesn't always work, and there are times in which i really want to work on a fic even tho it's not a priority or supposed to be posted any time soon. but still, i try not to beat myself up over it, bc fanfiction is a hobby and something that i do for fun!! it shouldn't feel like a chore, so even if i do want to keep a schedule or alternate between wips so i can have some resemblance of balance, it's not really necessary, or even possible, considering the amount of wips i have lmao. it's our work and our writing, we're free to never finish anything if we don't want to, or to write 13847872648 fics at the same time, or to write only one for the rest of our lives. there are no rules or a right way to go about it yk??? i totally get the need to . focus on just one project, or at least be able to finish something, anything, but it'll happen at some point, i promise, and u should never force yourself, especially when it comes to an activity u do bc u love it and enjoy it

it's different if we talk about original fiction or original characters.. at least in my case!! i didn't get into writing fanfic until a few years ago, but i've been writing original stories since i can remember!! in fact there's this one i'm very slowly making progress with, that i came up with back when i was 17, and that i really want to . finish someday and hopefully try and publish it. for me, and when i'm really passionate about a project, like with this one, i do . force myself to not write anything else . it's inevitable to get new ideas, so i write them down, i make pinterest boards and even outlines, and occassionally, i also start them, write a lil of them when i need a break or to scratch the itch. but otherwise i just . do my best to stick to the one that i really love and i'm the proudest of. i do tend to hyperfixate and obsess a lot, so it's not THAT hard for me, bc even if i do get distracted sometimes, i always come back to this story. especially since i've been working on it for almost 5 years now, and i know it like the back of my hand. i could write three prequels and four sequels lol

so really, i don't think there's a right or wrong way to go about this. one of my best friends, and a writer i quite admire, jumps from a wip to another all the time, and also struggles to finish a story, but she just . trusts the process . lets herself have fun and write whatever she wants every day . it's been a while since she last finished something but she isn't too worried yk?? she enjoys what she does, and what matters is that she keeps writing. every person is different, and the way they approach writing is, too!!

my advice is to try and find out what works best for u and to stop beating yourself up over something that might be out of ur control. if u have this one story that's really important to u and that u really wanna finish, then maybe ur gonna have to practise some self-discipline, and force yourself a little, forbid yourself from getting distracted with these other shiny new ideas. but if doing that ruins the whole thing for u and sucks the fun out of writing then . take it one day at a time, focus on something different each day, and start 4 stories in the same week. it doesn't matter babe!! writing is an art, there's not a correct way to do it!!

[nizawrites]

BAKING WITH THE MORIARTY BROTHERS + SHERLOCK

I headcanon that william knows how to bake but he just lets louis usually bake for him.

It happened one day when william was at home, doing paperwork as usual when you got the thought.

At first, it seemed useless and maybe not his thing but you gave it a shot.

"William, wanna take a break from that and maybe bake something with me?"

He only looks up once from his paper and smiles fondly at you "Sounds nice."

So you both are in the kitchen, looking at different recipes and reading them through.

Honestly you guys just end up baking cookies since it's the "easiest" to do among the other sweets.

William would actually be good at baking, he just followed the steps and instructions in the book and et voilà! you have yourself some cookies.

But you see, you're a mischievous little angel and so, you decided to throw flour on william while waiting for the cookies.

He would go from "???" to "Oh." and then cover you in the same ingredient you covered him in.

I swear, I can see william coating you in whatever ingredient he gets his hands on. He will play your little game until you surrender and stop.

Rip to who ever is in-charge of cleaning the house that day because William may or may not clean up after the mess you both made.

Your eyes sparkled at the sight of the opened bag of flour that sat on the counter. You debated for a few minutes if you should really do what you were thinking. William was too busy with reading the recipe book to even notice your little sneaky hands grabbing some flour and finally throwing it all over the blonde man leaning against the counter.

William could only stare at the book before raising his head and staring at you with a not really surprised expression, you really couldn't tell what he was feeling.

"That's a waste of flour darling." he would say before standing up straight and putting the recipe book down. He wouldn't show you the little smirk he had on his lips before picking up the bag of flour and covering you in it.

The flour fight would last for a few minutes, both of you throwing small amounts of flour from your clothes onto each other until Albert walks into the kitchen, his mouth forming an 'O' shape.

"You know moran is in charge of cleaning today right but you also do know he would skip his chores so that leaves fred and louis to clean this up." he would say before softly smiling at the two of you.

Bonus: You both ended up cleaning the kitchen since you didn't want to trouble fred and louis.

Albert was the one to bring it up, the baking together thing.

He saw in a cooking magazine different sweet treats he wanted to get for you but decided maybe it would be a nice bonding activity for the two of you.

"Hey y/n? You know how to bake right?"

"kind of? i mean it's easy to follow the cook books so.... yeah???" pls you sounded unsure but still went on with his idea.

You both ended up making cupcakes since you wanted to try frosting since it looked cool and fun and honestly who was albert to even deny your request?

You both would follow the instructions really well until you decided to get playful and well, slap some icing across his face.

He would be shocked but instantly laugh lightly and smile at you like nothing had happened.

Just know that, he's quite responsible so he would just pull out his handkerchief and wipe it off and continue on with the instructions.

Your plan to play food fight with him? Failed.

But you would end up with cute cupcakes !! He would let you frost them when they're done baking.

He'd just stand at your back and watch you frost the cupcakes with a smile.

"Did you just.... put icing on me?" He would ask softly as he retrieved his handkerchief from his pocket, gently wiping the colored cream off of his face.

"you were supposed to fight back by throwing some sugar or icing at me...." you would say sadly as you lighty pouted.

Albert would only chuckle as he stepped away from you, moving to the oven and opening it to retrieve the baked cupcakes.

"Was I? I'm sorry, I just don't want to make a mess." He would say as he places the cupcakes down on a cooling rack before swiping his finger into the frosting bowl and smearing it across your face.

"I mean, I can still fight back right now right? It's never too late to do so." He says softly while smiling.

Okay, he was baking some sweet treats for william and albert when you walked into the kitchen.

He, at first, didn't notice you until you peaked over his shoulder.

"whatcha doing?"

"I'm baking a cake for brother william and brother albert." He would reply softly as he put the ingredients onto the counter.

"can i help?"

"Sure."

Let's be honest, he will say sure but he ends up being the one to do all the baking lmao.

It's not because you were lazy or anything but mostly because he knew what you wanted to do and he just didn't want to be delayed in making the cake.

So you ended up sitting on the counter as you watched louis bake, he did let you help him out a little.

Like measuring liquids and stirring the batter.

Overall, he made the cake within a decent amount of time since he didn't let you do your little mischievous acts.

Louis is just responsible and time oriented.

"are you just going to let me sit here and watch you bake that cake?" you would ask softly as you swing your legs back and fort off the counter.

"You're a bit troublesome in the kitchen, y/n. I feel like we would take forever to bake if I let you help out since you wouldn't really be helping me out but instead you would distract me and therefore we wouldn't be able to bake the cake immediately." He would state before pushing his glasses up his nose.

"n-no excuse me! i am a good help what do you mean i would cause trouble?" you ask before playfully sulking. Louis would only laugh lightly before making his way to you and standing in front of you.

"Next time when brother william and brother albert aren't home, let's bake again and take our time doing the treats okay?" He would say before smiling genuinely at you.

I headcanon that sherlock is chaotic in doing things with you, like really chaotic.

It would be sherlock who would bring up the baking idea and you would gladly agree to his idea.

You both decided to make powdered sugar donuts and that means.... a lot of powdered sugar in the kitchen.

Honestly, the start of your baking was really really well like you were mixing the the batter in a bowl while sherlock separated the wet ingredients.

The only thing that went wrong was, you throwing powdered sugar onto him.

You thought it was gonna be fun and nice for him to be covered in powdered sugar but the next thing you knew was you were drenched in egg yolks.

Let's be honest, sherlock wouldn't hesitate to dump the wet ingredients onto you because come on, you both are chaotic together.

So that's how the "kitchen disaster happened"

When john came back home, he was greeted by a messy kitchen area and both you and sherlock were sitting on the floor, eating burnt donuts.....

"It doesn't taste that bad...?" He would say before laughing lightly as he dipped the burnt donut into whatever amount left of powdered sugar was in the bowl.

"it taste burnt sherlock but it's alright." you would say before dipping your donut into the bowl as well as you two sat down in the corner of the kitchen, laughing at the mess you two have made.

"Maybe we should try and seriously bake next time." Sherlock says as he chews the donut in his mouth.

"we both know that's never going to happen..." you would nonchalantly say as you looked up at him.

"That is very true." He would reply, tilting his head to you before smiling fondly "I have fun doing these with you so, let's never get serious when doing stuff like this." He would say again.

"YOU TWO SHOULD GET SERIOUS IF YOU STILL WANT TO STAY HERE!!" John would shout as he stood in the doorway, his face in disbelief at the mess you and sherlock had made.

a/n: hello!! i thought of this baking headcanon for the moriarty brothers earlier while resting so i decided to write this, might be a little ooc but i tried. i still am reading the manga to grasp each character's personality to make much more accurate headcanons and such. i will be doing the sent requests soon ♡ please wait for them hehe. thank you~ stay safe, hydrated and healthy lovelies!!

[lunar-jimin]

i am my mother’s child, i’ll love you til my breathing stops                                     i’ll love you til you call the cops on me

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: smut, tiny little glimpse of fluff, a lot of angst, stalker!reader, ex!namjoon

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: penetrative sex, softdom!namjoon (kinda), sub!reader (also kinda), quickie in a bathroom, lots of feelings, generally sad ones, this is fairly depressing, reader is stalker, so there’s that, also she has drunk sex with a stranger, but she propositions him so

Summary: It was your obsession with your job that drove him away. It’s your obsession with him that drives you.

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The world outside your window was dyed in the murky blue of four in the morning. You didn’t notice. Your eyes were glued to the glaring screen in front of you, begging for your undivided attention. Instead of working like you should be, you’re creeping through your ex’s Instagram page, desperate to know every minute detail of his life after you. The couple staring back at you from the screen made your stomach twist itself into knots. You had known he would move on, find someone to love him better than you could, but you never thought this would happen in a million years.

Engaged? Really? They had only been dating for a year, only a year and a half since he had left you, but sure enough, the giant diamond on her ring finger spoke for itself. Jealousy tore through you. You knew you didn’t deserve his affection, but that hadn't stopped you from holding on to the small glimmer of hope that one day you would find a way to be together again.

Despite it all, you had long ago admitted to yourself that she was a much better match for him. Your mutual friends would often regale you with their complaints of how clingy they were, how much they loved each other. The pictures of them that filled your feed testified to this. She made sure the world knew how much she loved him. A twinge of regret sparked in you when you thought of your own Instagram page, bare of any images of the two of you. You were never one for shoving your relationship into other people’s faces.

Your eyes flicked from the post to the clock in the corner of your screen and you groaned inside at the prospect of getting only two hours of sleep. Turning back to your computer, you noticed the tired burn in your eyes and the lethargy that spread throughout your limbs. With the last bit of energy you could muster, you drug yourself out of your way-too-comfy computer chair and into your welcoming bed. You fell asleep before you made it under the covers, still in your jeans.

The next thing you knew, your alarm was blaring out some loud pop song you had picked a long time ago and never bothered to change, uncouthly interrupting your precious slumber. Sitting you, you already began to feel the consequences of too little sleep: today was going to be a long one. You silently swore to yourself that you were going to fix your sleep schedule, before managing to drag yourself out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom. The warm water from your shower did little to wake you up, but it did sooth your tense muscles. A half an hour later, you were at the bus stop, apple in hand, trying valiantly to keep your eyes open.

Your morning passed quietly. Somehow words appeared on your screen, despite the fact that you didn’t recall typing them. You had never been more grateful for your lunch break in all your life. You wearily made the slow trek to the cafe three blocks down from your office. All you could think of was the toasty panini and cup of coffee calling your name. The apple you had gulped down for breakfast wasn’t doing much for you anymore.

The cafe cheerily greeted you with the smell of espresso and a warmth that comforted your bones. You had been coming here since you began your career as a journalist for the newspaper. You swore they made the best sandwiches in this hemisphere, and the shy barista, Jungkook, never failed to make you smile with one of his cheeky stories from college.

You quickly ordered before taking your usual spot by the window. You had only been sitting for three minutes when your day went from bad to terrible. You blinked twice when you saw him. You were sure it was an illusion, your lack of sleep finally taking its toll on your mental health. You close your eyes and count to ten, praying that he would be gone when you opened them again.

There was now way it was coincidence that he was here. There was no way that he could possibly have come to the same cafe you had been a patron at for five years by accident. There was no way.

You froze in place. You internally debated if you should get his attention. A large part of you wanted to leave before he saw you, have Jungkook sneak you out the back, but a small part of you wanted to run to him, take him in your arms, and promise to love him right. Instead, you sat there like a deer in headlights, letting fate take its course.

You hated that he looked better than the last days of your relationship. He had found his style again and he had cut his hair. He looked healthier, and you knew from your midnight ventures on his Instagram account that he had started to workout. You didn’t want to admit it, but you knew deep down that the toxicity of your relationship had been detrimental to his well-being.

The guilt was eating you up, when he turned to look at you. If you were frozen before, you were solid ice now: muscles locked up, eyes open wide. You gulped slowly, praying to whatever god was out there to make you invisible. Unfortunately, the gods weren’t having it today, and he gave you a quick wave and a smile before turning back to the menu.

You prayed that would be the entirety of your interaction, but five minutes you looked up from the phone you were taking refuge in, to find him walking towards your table.

"Do you mind if I sit down?"

His voice was deeper than you recalled

"Uh, yeah, sure."

You looked out the window in a desperate attempt to avoid conversation and eye-contact.

"How are you?"

You managed to look up at him.

"I'm fine."

You hoped that he wouldn’t see through the lie. You hoped he wouldn’t see the dark circles under your eyes and realize you still weren’t getting enough. You hoped he wouldn’t see the stain on your shirt and realize that you still couldn’t find the time to do basic chores. You hoped that somehow, he wouldn’t realize that you were just as addicted to work as when he left you. That you were still failing at being a person.

"That's good."

You gave a small smile.

"How 'bout you?"

"Pretty good."

He grinned. You guessed he was thinking about his engagement but was hesitant to bring it up in your presence.

"Good."

You took a sip of your coffee and looked out the window again, uncomfortable down to the soles of your feet.

"I, uh, have some big news that, uh, I wanted to share with you."

Maybe not so hesitant, and not here by accident. You raised an eyebrow.

"I'm, uh, engaged."

The sheepishness that poured over his face was almost adorable.

"Oh."

You were silent for a moment.

"Congrats then."

Behind his eyes, there was a glimmer of disappointment, as if some suppressed sadistic part of him wanted you to be hurt. You were glad that you came off as unbothered, even though your heart ached every time you thought of that stupid engagement post.

"I love her."

He was desperate. You were surprised. Namjoon was never petty, yet here he was trying to make you jealous. Had you really hurt him so badly?

"I would hope so."

You looked back out the window.

"She's really amazing. She cooks for me and goes on trips and she’s even going to quit her job to take care of our kids."

It would have hurt, if the chauvinistic ideals behind it hadn’t made you roll your eyes. But the point was still there: she was actively loving him, taking care of him, showing him that she wanted a future with him. That stung.

"Okay."

He looked at the window, resigning to the fact that he wasn't going to get a rise out of you. He should've known. You had never been very expressive of your emotions.

"I would have married you."

That made you flinch. A spark of delight ignited in his eye. Asshole.

"Okay."

"I loved you."

"I know."

"Did you love me?"

"I don't know."

A lie. You had loved him to the moon and back. Hell, you still loved him. But you wanted to hurt him just a little bit for making you sit through this torture.

"Oh."

A blow to his ego. If he wanted to parry, he best have come prepared.

"Have a good day then."

"Okay."

With that he left, without even bothering to pick up his order.

Before you knew what you were doing, you followed him out the door. You weren’t sure what had come over you, but you knew you were no longer in control of your being. You followed him one block after another, making sure you were far enough behind him that he wouldn’t notice you. You weren’t sure what you were seeking. Closure perhaps.

Soon, you found yourself standing outside a familiar, red, brick building. During your relationship, Namjoon had moved in with you, but still rented his apartment. In the beginning, you had stayed the night a few times. The apartment was small, but the view was to die for. You missed it.

He was already inside, but you knew which window was his. You stared up at it for a couple minutes, before something snapped inside you and you realized what you were doing. You felt nauseous, but that was quickly forgotten when you noticed the time. Panic shot through you, as you began to run back to the office. You could only hope that your boss wouldn’t notice your extended lunch break.

At first, it was a rare occurrence. Ever so often you would find yourself standing in front of those red bricks staring up at that window. Nothing would ever happen. You would just stare, part of you hoping to catch a glimpse of him and another part of you dreading the idea of ever seeing him again.

As your addiction to your job continued to consume you, it became a more frequent occurrence. Once a month turned to twice and then to once a week. Your mental health slowly deteriorated, until you were at risk of losing it completely. Somewhere in that time, you managed to pull yourself enough to end up at a shitty dive bar in the heart of the city with the few friends you had managed to keep. You weren’t that close to them. You doubt they knew your middle name or your birthday, but they were company you didn’t get much of that these days.

The beginning of your evening was spent slowly downing alcohol and catching up about the dullness of each of your existences. You spat out lies, hiding the fact that all your life was anymore was work and stalking your ex. You put on a front. You had other friends. You had been on dates but nothing had worked out yet. You had started dieting and working out. Lies, lies, lies.

Somewhere around your third beer, the fragile illusion you had created for yourself, came crashing down. You were well aware that these girls were friends with Namjoon and that they had undoubtedly received an invitation to his wedding, but while they were relatively sober they had been kind enough not to remind you. Now, however, their blood-alcohol levels were through the roof and as a consequence, they began to discuss the details of the wedding.

At some point, someone asked you what you were going to wear to the event. You stared at her dumbly before she realized what a stupid question it was and turned back to whoever she was talking to. You hadn't received an invitation to the wedding but a small part of you was glad.  You didn’t really want the reminder, and you wouldn’t go anyway, you weren't that masochistic.

Okay, so that wasn’t entirely true. There was a part of you that did want to go. A part of you that daydreamed of standing up in front of the entire church and begging him not to marry her. Begging him to come home with you. Begging him to love you again. But it was a stupid fantasy, and not one you should indulge in.

Lisa, the only person there who you really gave two shits about, turned to you and began to talk about your job again. When you let it slip that you had ran into Namjoon at lunch awhile ago, she looked like a little kid on Christmas. With her filter gone, she began to pester you with questions. Then she lit up.

“I have an idea.”

You internally groaned. Lisa was famous for her drunk ideas and none of them were ever good.

“You should come with me to the wedding as my plus one.”

Your eyes went wide.

“Lisa, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. You can get all dressed up and make him see what he’s missin’.”

It did sound tempting.

“Okay.”

You didn’t sound very sure, but Lisa was too drunk to care. She squealed before giving you a quick side hug and turning to talk to someone else. As the gravity of the situation hit you, you found yourself longing to forget everything. You threw back two shots of tequila before marching out onto the dance floor.

It didn't take long for some random stranger to come grind up on you, but you were too drunk and upset to care. In fact, feeling someone touch your body again was somewhat soothing. It didn't take long for your lips to find his and it didn't take much for you to convince him to come home with you.

You barely noticed saying goodbye to you friends as he dragged you out the door and into the back of an uber. You barely remembered anything else until you woke up the next morning with a pounding headache and a strange man in your bed.

It was the first time you had really seen him, too inebriated the night before to really notice his features. You didn't want to admit how similar they were. It was the dimples that gave it away. Even drunk, you still seemed to have a type.

He was adorable, lying there, so unaware of the rest of the world. It reminded you of your first date with Namjoon. While he began the night full of energy, he ended it passed out with his head in your lap.

5 Years Ago

You met him through mutual friends. He asked you out at a party and you still remember the red tinge on his cheeks to this day. You had developed a crush and you were delighted to oblige him.

Namjoon was a very simple man, and you didn't expect much more out of your date. Just dinner and a movie. However, he obviously wanted to impress you when he drove out of the city and to a beautiful flower field overlooking it. Halfway into your picnic dinner, he sheepishly confessed to having no cooking skills and that his best friend Jin had prepared your dinner. But that didn't matter, because for what Namjoon lacked in the culinary arts, he made up for with his mind. Namjoon blew you away with the shear capacity of his brain. He was obviously a nervous talker, and so you sat in awe as he spilt facts about whatever subject you were talking about.

"How do you know so much?"

"I don't know that much."

You gave him a look.

He sighed.

"I don't know, I just do. I consume information and I never really forget it. Most people find it annoying. At least that's what Jin tells me."

"It's adorable."

You both blushed.

"Thanks."

He looked sheepishly at his lap.

"So are you."

"What?"

You looked up at him confused.

"You're adorable too."

You're cheeks blazed scarlet.

When you mustered the courage to look at him, he was staring at your lips. His eyes quickly flitted back to yours when he noticed you looking at him. He coughed uncomfortably.

You weren't sure what came over you, but you found yourself tentatively placing your hand on his thigh. You looked at him nervously, while trying to muster the confidence to close the gap between you.

Luckily, you didn't need to. One second you were staring at his lips, the next they were on yours. You were happy to find that they were just as soft and plush as they looked. He moved rhythmically, and you prayed to god that you were as good of a kisser as he was.

Then the rain started. It was just a drizzle at first, but by the time you had packed up the picnic, it had begun to pour. You dashed to the car, soaked to the bone. When Namjoon pulled up to your apartment building, you invited him in to dry off. While his clothes were in the dryer, you started a movie, some cheesy rom-com. You weren't even thirty minutes in, when Namjoon fell asleep in your lap while you played with his hair.

The memory faded and instead of Namjoon, you found the mystery man whose name you didn't know. You woke him gently, offered him some coffee- which he declined- before sending him on his way. You weren't trying to be rude, but the longer you looked at him, the longer you were reminded of Joon, and you only had a limited capacity for heartache.

This time you didn't even bother to change out of sweats and a t-shirt. You must have looked like a mess as you rode the bus to the red-brick building. You were smart enough to bring a coffee and a book so that you had something to occupy yourself, as you sat on the bench across the street. You didn’t even look at the window anymore, just being this close to him was enough to satisfy your weird urge.

You had been sitting for an hour before he appeared. He didn't even glance your way. Your nerves twittered, praying that he wouldn’t see you. You quickly stored your book and coffee in your tote, before following him down the streets.

He led you downtown. You were always jealous of how close his apartment was to the hub of the city. The cars whizzed by you as you followed him down a boulevard of shops. Your heart stopped as you watched him walk into the jewelers. It made sense: he was getting married, rings were involved, but somehow this made it more real. He was investing thousands of dollars in this woman. He was investing his life.

The fact that it was the jewelers that you had visited back when you thought you were going to get married only made it worse. Your heart began to beat faster. Was he going to give her your ring?

3 Years Ago

"Which one do you like?"

You looked over the case carefully inspecting each ring for flaws. After five minutes, you pointed at a sapphire and diamond ring near the back. It was relatively simple, but that’s what drew you to it.

He smiled.

"Well, someday, when you're Mrs. Kim, that ring will be around your finger."

You grinned and lifted up to meet his lips.

"I love you."

"I love you more, Joonie."

"I seriously doubt that."

You giggled and followed him out the door for lunch.

As soon as he came out of the shop, you rushed in. You went straight for the case that you knew had held your precious band. It took you a minute to spot it, but when you did, you felt relief flood your body. It was still there, he wasn't forsaking you for her.

As the relief washed over you, you began to connect to reality again. You realized what you were doing. With it came the nausea. Coming back to reality was always painful. You hadn't deemed yourself a stalker yet, even know though you knew you should. The self-hatred followed you home, up the stairs and through your apartment door.

You didn't mean to follow him. Somehow, the part of you that still loved him (which was a larger part of you than you cared to admit), had gained the ability to control your actions, while the logical part of you sat in the backseat screaming. The shame continued to throb inside you as you curled up on your couch. You knew you needed to stop but you didn't know how.

You didn't and as the months passed you found yourself following him whenever you had spare time. You were careful, staying a good distance behind him. If he had noticed you, he didn't let you know. He seemed blissfully unaware. The worst part was that as you followed him, you began to realize he was truly happy: something you hadn't witnessed since the early days of your relationship.

At some point, you started bringing your camera along. You weren't sure how the pictures of him ended up on your camera roll, and then pinned to your bedroom wall. You would lay in bed at night, touching yourself with one hand, while another tightly grasped a photo of him.

In the morning, you would be so sick with yourself, you would vomit in the toilet. Three months passed like this before his dreaded wedding day arrived. The sane part of you didn't want to go, but the creepy, deviant part of you had more control, and thus you found yourself in front of the mirror in a simple sundress.

Lisa had attempted to convince you to wear a skimpy number in order to make Namjoon jealous, but you knew that Namjoon always found you sexier when you looked innocent. You had often teased him about it. So you settled for a simple floral piece and some kitten pumps.

When you walked into the venue you felt another twinge of jealousy at the grandeur. The church was old and gorgeous and you felt like a sinner just by existing in it. You sat in the back. Your nerves kept you calm enough to decide you didn't need Namjoon knowing about your presence just yet.

You blacked out for most of the ceremony. It was only when Lisa waved her hand in front of you that you realized that instead of witnessing the union of 'man and wife', you were busy daydreaming about said 'man' taking you in front of the whole church.

You stared out the window of Lisa's care wistfully as she drove to the reception. When you started to tear up, she pulled over in a park parking lot.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

You almost pulled it over, but the slight quiver in your voice gave you away.

"Sis, if you don't wanna go, we don't have too. We can just head to my apartment, order Chinese food, binge Netflix, and do facemasks."

It sounded so, so tempting, but you know you needed to make it through it. You needed to prove to the part of yourself that was going insane, that you didn't need him anymore.

You thought back to the day you came home from work to find his bags packed in the living room. You thought about the tears that streamed down your face as you tried, and failed, to convince him to stay, that you loved him more than your job.

He cried too, pulling you into a hug, the last one you would ever have. You remember how his chest, which was usually so strong and comforting, trembled against yours. How you weren't sure if the wet warmth on your cheek was from him or from you.

You must have stood like that for thirty minutes, before he pulled away, gave you a last kiss, grabbed his bags and left. It wasn't until later that evening that you discovered his letter.

My Love,

I don't want to do this, but I am no longer happy. We are no longer happy. There isn't much left to us in all reality. I love you to the moon and back, but I can't spend the rest of my life waiting for you to come home from work. I know it's important to you and I would never ask you to leave it, but I have a life to live too.

You made me so happy for such a long time, but you are a writer in the dark. You stay up all night on your computer and leave me with a cold empty bed. When I wake in the morning, you're gone. I can't stay in a relationship that barely exists.

Someday, when you feel like you can put your job aside for a family, call me. I'll be here because I love you. I love you so much, it makes it hard to breathe. Be happy for me.

Love,

Namjoon

And so here you were, in a passenger seat on the way to his wedding reception. Just a girl with a broken heart and a broken promise. You needed to go. You needed to see him. Confront him.

"Drive."

You sat through dinner, barely touching the food on your plate. You listened to your friends chatter away and make snarky comments through all the speeches. When the dancing started, you were hesitant to move, but Lisa dragged you to the edge of the dance floor and forced you to witness the first dance.

You spent most of it staring at the floor nursing a martini that was almost straight gin. You finally looked up at the end of the song, some cheesy pop shit you knew Namjoon loved, and locked eyes with him. His hand was delicately placed over her waste and you secretly wondered how many hours of practice it took for him to be able to dance to this song. The waltz was never his forte.

His stare never left you and as soon as the song was over, he whispered in her ear before walking straight at you. You drowned your drink quickly, praying the alcohol would be enough to get you through whatever was coming. He grabbed your arm without saying a word and dragged you out of the ballroom and into the nearest bathroom.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

His voice was harsh, but there was a touch of tenderness to it.

"Lisa made me come. I don't want to be here anymore than you want me."

"Bullshit!"

You raised an eyebrow at his retort, signaling that you knew he knew you were lying, but you weren't going to tell him the truth.

"I just can't deal with seeing you right now. Do you know what you being here is doing to me?"

You felt a spark of anger go off inside you. He had an issue with being here? That's swell and all, but he was the one who broke up with you. He was getting married, you being here should be nothing more than a footnote.

"I don't care, Namjoon, I don't care if you're hurt or not. I don't care if it's ruining your big day. You leaving ruined my life. I have spent the last year and a half dying because you're not in my bed when I wake up in the morning. And I know that I fucked up and that I needed to be there for you, but you left me without giving me the chance to change! You. Left. Me."

Somewhere in the middle of ranting, hot tears had begun to fall down your cheek and you were once again thankful that you had splurged on waterproof makeup.

"Don't act like such a victim. At least I know that the woman I'm marrying actually loves me."

His words fanned your little spark into a full blown flame and you raised your hand to slap him, but he grabbed your wrist before you could. You looked to his face expecting to see anger, but instead, his eyes showed a mixture of sadness and disappointment.

"I'm sorry." He said.

Next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, soft as you had remembered them. Shock ran through your body and you froze as he continued to kiss you slowly. When he realized you weren't responding, he pulled away, a faint blush apparent on his cheeks.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, you found his lips again. You immediately felt his body relax against yours as his arm snaked around your waste to pull you closer. A bittersweet feeling floated through you as you relished in his taste again. You hadn't realized how much you missed kissing him, how comforting he was.

Somewhere deep inside you was yelling that this was an illusion. That at some point he would have to leave the bathroom and go back to his new wife who would love him and give him children and grow old with him.But you squashed the voice, desperate to live in the moment. Desperate to believe that just for this time, he was yours. That you were his new wife, that you were going to have beautiful children and that in sixty years, you would be two old people stupidly in love.

The kissing quickly became messy and desperate. You unabashedly moaned to his mouth and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue in his tongue. Your arms were wrapped around his neck in an attempt to keep him as close to you as possible, as if letting go would mean losing him forever.

He pulled away from you and looked you in the eyes.

"You always look so beautiful."

The comment was quiet and under his breath, but you heard him nonetheless, and warmth crept onto your cheek. Before you could respond, he picked you up and set you on the sink counter.

You welcomed him, as he stepped between your legs, returning his lips to yours. As his lips moved down your neck, his hand traced its way up your thigh, slowly moving your dress up your leg. You moaned as he began to trace circled in your inner thigh, feeling your underwear soaking through.

"Dear god, Joonie," you whine,"don't tease me."

The nickname slipped out without your awareness, but you noticed him pause subtly at the sound of it before returning to his ministrations. His lips returned to yours as he shifted your panties to the side and used his pointer finger to tease your clit.

You whined out at the sudden pleasure, legs tightening on his waist, trying to bring him closer. Trying to bring him home. When he slips a finger inside you, you throw your head back against the mirror. Your eyes squeeze shut, attention completely focused on the digit inside you.

Despite the time that had passed, he hadn't forgotten how to make you see white. With the exception of the man you had dragged back from the bar, you hadn’t been laid in forever, and as a result, you were incredibly sensitive. Right when he was about to tip you over the edge with no more than a finger, he pulled back, lust clouding his eyes, finger soaked.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me?"

You whined at the old nickname, clenching your thighs together in a desperate attempt to relieve the ache between your thighs. Namjoon's hand drifted to the front of his slacks to massage the tent that had formed in them, while admiring your fucked out form slouched on the hotel bathroom sink.

"Answer my question baby."

A yes slips out of you and he grins like the devil.

"Look, at you, such a dirty girl, all fucked out in a public bathroom, desperate for me to fuck her."

Nothing had changed. He was still the tease who manipulated your body until you experienced cloud nine. And you were his good girl who obeyed every command, desperate to please.

You dipped your fingers into yourself in an attempt to stretch your pussy open for him, while he slowly dragged down his zipper, and pulled his cock out through the fly. Your memory served you well, but he still seemed bigger than you remembered. The tip was flushed red and dripping pre-cum. For a split second you were worried about him staining his slacks, before dashing your concern away to the depths of your consciousness.

You knew you should, but you felt no guilt for what you were about to do. As far as you were concerned, this was Namjoon’s mistake, not your’s. Sure, there was a beautiful bride dancing in the ballroom, and sure, she didn’t deserve this, but no matter what the certificate said, Namjoon would always be yours.

The realization hit you, as he kissed you again, moaning into your mouth as he rubbed the tip of his cock against you. There would always be a part of him that would belong to you. There would always be a part of his heart, no matter how small, that loved you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here, now, about to fuck you in the small, but beautiful bathroom, at his own wedding reception.

The notion made you feel powerful. Your hand quickly replaced his, and you gave him a few quick strokes before lining him up. You both moaned as his tip pressed into you. When he was fully inside, you couldn’t help but feel complete. Months of emptiness completely forgotten as he slowly pulled out before thrusting back in.

“Fuck, baby, I forgot how tight you were.”

Tears pricked in your eyes as he began to pick up pace, moving faster and faster. Despite trying hard to pretend like this moment could last forever, you knew that she would notice him missing soon, and that this moment was doomed to end. You squeezed your eye’s shut, tried to focus on the feeling of him drilling in and out of you.

It didn’t take long for his pace to become unsteady. You opened your eyes to find him staring at your face. You couldn’t read the look on his face, but it carried a strangely familiar emotion. It wasn’t until he reached down to rub quick circles on your clit that you realized what it was: love The realization had you coming around his cock. You screamed silently, tears finally falling down your face. He was close behind, burying his head in your neck as he filled you up one last time.

“I love you.”

The words were quiet. They were words that weren’t meant to be said out loud. They were words that would haunt him for the rest of his life. But they were the truth, and the truth deserved to be spoken.

“I love you too. I always will.”

You looked him in the eyes, while he softened inside you. There was a silent acknowledgement between you. An acknowledgement that neither of you wanted to admit. That you would never be together. That it would never work. That he was married.

So, while remaining completely silent, he slipped out of you, tucked himself into his slacks, fixed his hair and left. You sat there for minutes, tears rolling down your cheek. Finally, you gained enough energy to pull yourself off the sink, shift your panties back into place and walk back out into the world.

You quickly went to your table, grabbed your purse, and said goodbye to Lisa. If she smelled the sex, she didn’t say anything. When you were at the door, you looked back for half a second. He was dancing with her, laughing at something she said. He looked happy, and you prayed to God that he was.

That night you sat down at your computer and began to write your grand, tragic love story.

__________________

seven years later

You laughed as you walked out into the chill autumn air. Hoseok had that effect on you. Always had. He had just treated you to a wonderful celebration dinner in honor of your first best selling book, a novel about a woman unable to let go of her former love.

As you were about to leave your daughter tugged on his hand informing Hoseok of her need to go to the bathroom. Your husband gave you a quick kiss, before taking the four year old back inside. You stood on the sidewalk, breathing in the air and admiring the city lights, reflecting on how you got there.

A month after Namjoon’s wedding, you met Hoseok in a coffee shop you were writing at. You had hit it off pretty quickly, and two years later you were married. Your daughter, Marie, followed soon after. A month ago, your novel was finally published for the world. And so here you were, celebrating with the family that you loved so much.

“Hi.”

You looked up, startled.

“Namjoon,” you breathed, “what are you doing here?”

“I was, uh, going for a walk.”

Your gazed washed over him, and you noted that he didn’t look too good. His hair was long and unkempt, dark circles under his eyes, and his usual impeccable sense of style was thrown away for some sweats and a hoodie.

“Are you okay?”

You couldn’t help the concern that painted your face.

“I’ve been better.”

He gave you a sad smile.

“Oh?”

“We’re going through a rough patch. I think she wants to get a divorce.”

“Oh.”

At one point, those words would've made your year, but that part of you had died a long time ago.

“Maybe we could go out for a cup of coff-”

His words stopped when he saw the diamond and sapphire ring on your finger.

“Oh.”

His face fell. It was then that Hoseok decided to grace the two of you with his presence. Namjoon quickly looked from you, to Hoseok, to your daughter, as he slowly began to put the picture together.  He looked pained. You knew the look, the look of loss.

“Who’s this?”

Hoseok’s voice was cheery and you were once again grateful for your husband’s consistant happiness.

“An old friend. You take Marie to the car, and I’ll catch up with you in a sec.”

He nodded, happy to oblige. When he was out of earshot, you turned back to Namjoon.

“You were supposed to call.”

You stared blankly at him.

“What?” you finally ask.

“You were supposed to call when you were ready to have a family.”

You looked at him in shock.

“Namjoon, you got married.”

“I know, but I would’ve left her for you.”

“You’re insane.”

“I’m not. I still love you. And you still love me. You promised me you would forever.”

“Well, it was a naive promise to make.”

He looked like he was about to cry.

“Look, Joon, go home. I know you loved your wife, and I’m willing to guess you still do. Relationships take work, you know that. You’ve alwayknown that. Show her that she means the world to you. Whatever’s going on, you can make it through it. Whatever part of you still loves me, kill it.”

He nods

“I have to go. But call me when you’re in a better spot, okay?”

You hand him a business card, before walking away into the night.

A month later, you get a text.

“We made it work. Coffee on Wednesday?”

You smiled.

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