All of the tags, warnings and chapters are on the specific masterlist of each of each fic.
Find all my fics on AO3!
MIN YOONGI
Haunted
Synopsis:
You'd do anything to see your best friend succeed, even if it means taking up a weird job offer to do security at an abandoned pizzeria for him to be able to afford his musical career.
JUNG HOSEOK
Veni Vedi Vici (VVV/3V)
Synopsis:
Quick surrenders only happen after the toughest battles.
Keeping your walls up, as the new choreographer, when Hoseok keeps testing them, his threatening but genuine faith might be the toughest battle of all.
The Weakest Link (TWL) (on hiatus)
Synopsis:
The best of Thursdays had to end up with you getting shot in your college dorm. With your mob family's past and your bad, nosey habits coming back, you tie an unlikely alliance with Kim Namjoon and his team of Bangtan Boys, ready to take over the existing, dying mafia families, and finally make this town yours.
Warnings: Lots of blood, talk of bodily fluids, dead people/bodies, talk of bodily harm and injuries, descriptive injuries, thoughts/descriptions of monsters, tones of manipulation.
It should be noted that this story will contain themes of horror/psychological horror and also explore obsessive behaviors and codependency. Many characters are morally gray. Please be warned!
Summary: You let your Nightmares out, and now you have to face the consequences.
Notes: So I had a lot of fun with this! The concept came to me almost instantly and I wanted to write a whole damn story about it (or turn it into a series because I’m insane). Hope you like it love ❤️
This is the 1st part of the Red Light series. Find the Masterlist here ♥️
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Red. Everything’s red. The lights flicker over and over again, the screech of ‘DANGER, DANGER’ echoing off the once white walls. The flashing is meant to alert, to make you panic, and it’s certainly working because now… It’s madness.
Running down another hall, you try to contain the need to throw up at every new turn, the smell of decay heavy in the air. Bodies everywhere, some mangled, some not, but all of them bathed in blood and other fluids. There’s rumbling in the distance, other doctors and personal screaming to try and get out. It’s foolish though, you’re all dead already because of your decision.
It’s your fault, maybe you shouldn’t have put so much trust into him, into them, but you did. You did and now the lab is burning, everyone is dying, and you’re watching it happen with a front row seat because oddly enough, not a single Nightmare has touched you. Aside from all the fluids you’re covered in, you’re unharmed… For now. Things could turn quickly though with any of them.
“Doctor? Oh, doctor? Where have you gone?” The sound of his voice makes you pause, glass crunching underneath your sharp heel. Turning back, you see just a glimpse of Hoseok before you’re sprinting, the sounds of your panicked breathing overtaking the desperate screams.
Coming upon an elevator, you try to call for it, even though you know it’s for nothing. The electricity has been malfunctioning for some time, the only way out now being the stairs and that… Well, that’s a death trap.
The Nightmares, they’re smart, they know, they’ve watched.
Looking closer at the body hunched over next to the panel, you realize that it had been Dr. Freeman. Had been, as his whole face seems to be gone now, ripped off and smooshed onto the wall like a morbid sticker. It worries you how a flash of satisfaction flickers through you instead of horror, but then again, he very much deserved it. Perhaps a worse death even.
“Don’t hide from me now, I promise not to hurt you! Things will be good now for everyone, for us.” The sound of uncertainty that leaves you is loud as his voice calls out again, choosing to leave your heels behind before take off. You feel constricted still, tight pencil skirt holding your legs, long coat suffocating you with every shaky step. Passing a reflective window doesn’t help, it allows you to see just how much blood is on you, how it’s seeped into your clothing and skin.
How much blood is on your hands.
Another turn, and then another, and then you’re at a dead end. A miscalculation on your part, and it’s going to cost you. You turn to run again, turn to try to survive this, and he’s there with a smile on his scarred face. Something tells you that he’s already anticipating your every move, but Hoseok does like to play.
… And play he will.
“Ah, there you are!” His voice is his, but also… Not. No longer in his human form, he steps toward you slowly, as if not to startle you in your frightened state. He’s got you pinned to the wall, wings stretched out behind him, long tentacle like appendages wrapping around you loosely. It’s hard to tell what’s going to happen, what his plans are now.
He leans into you, breathing in your scent, his chest rumbling quietly as you try not to panic. A small, a minuscule part of you trusts him right now, enough not to punch him and run for it. Maybe it’s fine, maybe… Maybe he had his reasons. He leans back, giving you a twisted bloody smile that you so desperately wish to find comfort in.
i genuinely don't think there's much, if anything, hotter than someone clearly having a blast doing something they're really good at. doesn't really matter what it is. the combo of competence and joy is absolutely lethal to me
can you please write about hobi helping his gf!reader with depression? thank you so much. I love your writing style.
Did I narc on my own depressive-episode habits? Yes. Yes, I did. 🫣 Shout-out to “the chair” - you keep me together, bb.
It’d been hours since you checked your phone. Maybe days, but it didn’t matter much to you. You lost the plot of linear time a while ago.
When you finally mustered the willpower to search for your phone, it took longer than you’d ever admit to find it among the battalion of cups assembled on your nightstand. For the past few days, their numbers grew; and so did your frustration with yourself. Most of the time, you laid with your back turned to your mess so you could forget that it existed. Who needed object permanence, anyway?
It shouldn’t have been so difficult to force your body out of bed, but it was. Eating, showering, staying adequately hydrated - it all cost more than you could currently afford, and you hated feeling this broke. But you had cement in every cell, and dealing with the fog in your brain was already exhausting enough. How could you practice “self-care” if you simply couldn’t give a shit?
The only force stronger than your desire to stay in bed was the guilt you felt in wasting another second there. It was supposed to be a tool - a respite - not a tomb. So why did you keep yourself buried there?
With a groan, you pulled yourself up into a sitting position and checked the stockpile of notifications on your phone. It was a cyclone of texts you hadn’t read, missed calls, and voicemails likely asking why you’d ignored the previous two attempts at contact. Even when faced with the consequences of falling off the radar, you didn’t care to put yourself back on it. Admitting that to yourself only made you feel even worse.
Still, there was one person who was entitled to proof of life. One person whose presence recharged your battery rather than depleted it. He didn’t deserve radio silence, even if you hadn’t gone dark of your own volition. The least you could do was verify your continued presence on this mortal coil.
Hoseok was pure magic - beautiful, baffling, and effervescent. No one you’d ever met was as intuitive as he was; and nobody had the capacity to care about anything as completely and genuinely as he did. He gave you space when you wanted it and closeness when you needed it. And he could tell which of those to provide without you having to say a word - even if you couldn’t make that determination yourself.
He knew you, and that’s precisely why you felt you didn’t deserve him.
Swallowing that thought before it could tug you deeper down the rabbit hole, you dialed his number. And when you heard it ringing outside your bedroom door, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach.
Oh god.
Your apartment had turned into a depression pit over the past two weeks. Incrementally, too, like a rot had taken over in slow motion. A scourge you couldn’t bring yourself to tidy up. Even the thought of someone seeing your uncharacteristic mess made you nauseous.
This was a side of you Hoseok was permitted to know about, but not one you ever wanted him to see. It’s why you dodged the question any time he asked about moving in together. There was a difference between discussing your insecurities and having him witness the root of them firsthand. If you didn’t love yourself like this, how could he be expected to?
You kicked the blankets off your legs as quickly as you could and scrambled up to unsteady feet. Your joints weren’t prepared for any movement, let alone this frantic of a pace, but you couldn’t hide forever. Your deep, dark secret was now out on display, and you needed to get this awful confrontation over - and him out - before your shame could kill you.
He froze when you stumbled out of your bedroom and into the living room. Standing several meters away in the adjoining kitchen, he held a duster in one hand and his ringing phone in the other - eyes wide and mouth frozen into the shape of an ‘o.’ Like he’d been caught red-handed with the gun still smoking.
“I figured you were sleeping,” He stammered as he turned around to tuck the duster back into the cabinet below your kitchen sink. The look on his face screamed please don’t hate me. “I thought I had more time.”
Your brain was so shell-shocked, you couldn’t form words - you couldn’t even blink. You had no idea how long he’d been in your apartment without you noticing, but in that amount of time, he’d made it unrecognizable.
Your sink, once full of the dishes you hadn’t tended to, was both empty and spotless. The rest of your kitchen was immaculately organized as if it wasn’t just littered with recycling you kept forgetting to take to the curb, and haphazard piles of items you needed to do something with. Even more confusingly, the long to-do list on your countertop now had every line crossed out.
Your wide-eyed gaze trailed over to the living room. The last time you stepped foot in there, it looked like ground zero of some major disaster. Now, thanks to Hoseok, it looked like home again.
The armchair that previously held the majority of your belongings - the island of misfit toys - was vacant. Everything you’d abandoned there over the past two weeks had been returned to its proper place. The mountain of throw blankets had been bulldozed as well. Its disembodied remnants were either neatly folded in the designated basket, or artfully draped over the back of your couch.
He’d even untangled the knot of yarn clinging to your abandoned crochet project.
Thinking of how much time it must’ve taken him to sort this all out - and how quietly he’d had to maneuver to avoid ruining his surprise - led to an explosion of tears. It was monsoon season, and you braced yourself before the flood could carry you off, out the door.
He exclaimed in horror when he saw the way your shoulders shook, struggling to carry the weight of your sobs. You couldn’t bear to see the look on his face, so you hid behind your hands and wished yourself invisible. Accordingly, you didn’t see him race over to you. It was the suddenness of his arms wrapping tightly around you, pulling you into his chest, that alerted you to his presence.
“I’m sorry!” His rapid, repeated apologies spewed out like machine-gun fire, “I just - I know your brain isn’t cooperating with you right now, so I wanted to - and I know you’d never ask, but you- “
You dropped your hands and buried your face into his sweatshirt; praying to any god that your running nose wouldn’t ruin it. It came out as an exhale, weightless and automatic: “Thank you.”
“For cleaning? Baby, you don’t need to thank me.”
With a sniffle, you pulled away from him just enough to meet his eyes. “For loving me despite all this… mess.”
His face dropped like a brick. You could feel the slight shift in his posture, and you wanted to disappear entirely. Maybe this was one final courtesy before he washed his hands of you. After all, why wouldn’t he? Were you worth any of this?
“I don’t love you despite,” his incredulous tone corrected you, but his subsequent, petal-soft words cradled you, “I love you including.”
Pairings: Min Yoongi x reader, Jung Hoseok x reader, Min Yoongi x Jung Hoseok
Word Count: 7.1k
Tags/Warnings: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Established Relationship, Best Friends to Lovers, Infidelity Kink, Cuckolding, Repressed Homosexuality, Eventual Polyamory
Chapter Specific Tags: Excessive Guilt, Intrusive Horny Thoughts, Hiding Things From Partner, Dishonesty, Penetrative Sex, Shenanigans With Panties
Author's Note: So this story came to be when I was doing some kink research and then the horny demons (sope) possessed me and a cuckolding fic was born. Not even going to pretend that @glossdebut wasn't at least partially responsible for this. When I was watching her write tft live, I started writing and did not stop until like 4am. Personal thank you to her for being my inspo on this one (ㅅ´ ˘ `)
He didn't know exactly when it started. If you asked him, he wouldn't be able to pinpoint the moment he started feeling this way.
At his best guess, his affection for both of you gradually increased over time. Feelings large and encapsulating, a cloud of strings in his mind. Tangling with his own and with each other, looped over and over, until it was hard to separate where you began and he ended. A beautiful mess of knots, threads that he never wanted to pull loose.
And he was content that way, with a messy tangle of feelings. He knew you loved him wholly and completely, and that he felt the same. You were always enough for him.
But the threads kept pulling taught, fibers stretched to their upper limits until he could feel every bit of the fraying. The baited breath, the anticipation for when he just snaps.
The moment he noticed, was the day you had gone to training with Hoseok.
There wasn't anything odd about it. On any day prior, he wouldn't have even thought twice about it. You two were training for a marathon, for charity. Both independently deciding to participate and then finding it better to train together. For the motivation, for support. Something normal, something friends do with each other. Completely platonic. Completely appropriate for a married woman and her husband's best friend.
So tell him why when you came home, panting and sweaty. Clothes and hair a mess, Hoseok your mirror image. He found himself conjuring all sorts of scenarios of what you could have done rather than what you obviously did.
He remembered his throat going dry as you panted in the entry way. Tongue darting out to trace his bottom lip, his eyes dragged across you. Across both of you. Your collar was askew, tank top strap slipping down your shoulder. Both of you were so sweaty as if you had just… gaze tracing the bead of sweat that rolled from Hobi's chin down to his collarbone.
"Hobi really put me to work", you whined at him as you tried taking your shoes off without toppling over. Hoseok was behind you holding out his hands to steady you, if needed. He chuckled as he stood there, looking at Yoongi with mirth dancing around his eyes.
"She's being a bit dramatic", he said smirking over at him.
You were bent at the waist, untying shoes as you turned to look over your shoulder at him. And it was worse, so much worse watching you like that, when Hoseok was right behind you. He felt as though he couldn't look away from Hobi's hands. His own fingers twitching while he waited to see if he would grab you.
"I'm not going to be able to walk tomorrow", you said as you pouted up at him.
And Jesus Christ, he had to bite back his own groan. Not what you meant, absolutely not what you meant. He trusted you, knew you wouldn't. Knew Hobi wouldn't.
That sentence made him grip his own thighs, dimpling the skin. His dick twitching in interest, pressed up against his jeans, an uncomfortable pressure at his zipper. One offhand innocent comment, and he was half hard for the both of you to see.
He wanted to grab a pillow, cover it before either of you caught him, but fuck… the idea. That maybe instead of running you two- behind his back. And then came home without bothering to hide the evidence. The thought of it sent him squirming.
And Hobi saw, because of course he did. Sent him a slow, sly smile as he looked pointedly at his lap. He felt like he wanted to pant. Wanted to loll his tongue out and show him how he was drooling over the idea that he took the love of his life out and then fucked her good and hard.
"I'll leave you two alone", he said, sending Yoongi a distinctly smug glance. "Have a fun night", he sang as he shuffled out the front door.
You scoff over your shoulder. "Don't know what fun I'll be having", you mutter to yourself and fling the tennis shoes off your feet.
He watched as you put on his house slippers. Feet dwarfed by the sheer size of his own. You winced as you stepped forward, rubbing gently at your hips. He swallows, wiping the growing sweat on his palms off onto his pants.
"I'm just gonna lay down and die from how sore my-", you start. Huffing and complaining and parking yourself on his lap. He notices when you feel it, blinking a bit at him in surprise, and his cheeks grow red at the look on your face. "Oh", you mutter, looking at him a bit quizzically.
"It's not-", he starts. Trying to find a way to defend himself without revealing the thoughts running through his head. "You just look good right now", he whines.
"Baby", you start. "I'm all sweaty and gross".
"That's-", he starts and then swallows to clear his throat. "That's kind of the point".
"Mhm", you hum at him and lean close to brush your noses against each other. He leans forward a bit desperately, trying to catch your lips between his own. You don't allow him the messy exchange he was aiming for. Lips gliding slow against his as your curl your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He sighs softly against you, head fuzzy at the sugary sweet pecks you give him.
Pulling back to look him in the eye, you whisper against him "I don't believe you". His toes curl slightly as he relishes the vibration against his mouth, trying to chase it to the source. You tug on his hair, preventing him from pitching forward.
"No?", he mumbles and you shake your head at him in response. "Let me prove you wrong?", he purrs, pulling the tight elastic fabric away from your skin. Slowly rucking it up your torso so he can dance his fingers along your sides.
You squirm in his lap, little puffs of breath escaping you when the gentle touch turns ticklish.
"Yoongi!", you yelp as he digs harder into your side, snickering at your restlessness. "Baby, I'm so sore".
He leans forward and presses soft kisses to the side of your face. "I'll be gentle, promise", he murmurs as he traces the line of your jaw.
You sigh, long and suffering, as if he had just asked you to endure a miserable task for him. He feels the corners of his lips perk up in amusement.
"Ok", you say, dragging out the ending syllables. "But only because I love you".
He grins, as he chases your lips once more. The kiss is awkward, and more of a press of teeth as neither of you can temper your smiles. "Love fucking me, you mean", he says as he ushers you off of his lap and onto the floor.
"Who says I can't do both?", you say, smiling at him, eyelids hanging low. Allowing yourself to be corralled by him as he guides you towards your bedroom.
He feels a shudder run it's way up his spine. In a different context-
"Not me", he rasps and pushes open the bedroom door.
And you were right, not to believe him. The promise of gentle immediately broken once he properly got his hands on you.
The room filled with pitched gasps and moans as he went round for round with you. He gripped the headboard as he basically drilled into you. The thought of how Hobi would have given it to you behind each punctuated thrust. How he might of stretched you out for him, been the one to exhaust you before him, your husband, could get the chance to.
And he knew he had a problem when he finally spilled into you and pulled out hard.
"Yoongi", you had whimpered, fresh tear tracks making their way down your cheeks. "Enough, too much".
"Ok", he had muttered. Shaky hands brushing down your spine. "'M sorry", he said in a hushed voice, pressing a kiss to your nape and untangling your fingers from the sheets.
And when he came back with a washcloth to clean you, he had to sit cross-legged to hide how hard he still was.
Though you didn't notice, arms gone lose around his neck as you more trailed your mouth across his biceps rather than actually planting kisses there. Body boneless and mind clear, put through the wringer by him and maybe Hoseok before that.
You had fallen asleep at some point during his ministrations, none the wiser to his internal struggle. He would have gone to the bathroom to take care of himself but the thought of it made him… guilty. Like he was doing something he wasn't supposed to. That maybe this little- distraction carried more weight than he liked to admit. And when he laid down next to you to try to sleep it off, the proximity of your skin and his set him on fire.
He couldn't stop thinking about it. You and Hoseok, fucking behind his back. He bit his lip as he curled into a ball, eyes squeezing tight and willing his mind to fall asleep and just stop.
But he laid there, all night. Scenarios increasing in length and filth. Hard on never subsiding, never calming down. Twitching in his pajamas until you had woken up in the morning and assumed he just had a case of morning wood.
And how sweet you were with it. Kisses pressed on his thighs and pelvis as you took him into your mouth.
He whimpered through it, fisting strands of your hair just to have something to hold onto. And when your nose met the end of him, throat constricting as you swallowed around him, he came down the back of your throat to the idea that those lips had been wrapped around someone else.
And you were none the wiser, swallowing what he gave you and smiling up at him sweetly.
He wanted to say that he had forgotten it there. A one off fantasy. Something that was hot in the moment but when he thought about it, really thought about it, wasn't going to happen.
But what started off as an itch in his mind was growing into a festering desire. Thoughts that accompanied him when he allowed his mind to slow.
What were you doing when you went to training with Hoseok? Was it normal to be as exhausted and sore as you were every time you came home?
And was the training just an excuse to find alone time with him, because you have never once been interested in running the entire time he has known you.
It was distressing, the idea that he wanted it. Wanted you to… with Hobi. He wanted you to lie in his face about it. Come home with marks on your neck and just brush it off as bruises. Make it so obvious that there was no missing what had happened between the two of you. He wanted you to flaunt it. Right in front of him.
So it continued like that, you would come home disheveled and sweaty, then Hobi would find an excuse to slip out the front door quickly. Not without occasionally sending him a smug look over his shoulder. He always found a convenient excuse to slip out of the dinner or drinks you offered him. Nobody at home to watch the cats, chores to do… whatever he could do to give Yoongi the perfect excuse to be alone with his wife for the night.
He didn't enjoy thinking about how it made him feel, that Hobi knew what he was doing with you.
You would pout at him, say something to the affect of "what a terrible friend he was, refusing to have dinner with you". Then he would rush you to the bedroom all over again with the flimsy excuse of just liking how you looked after training.
If it was anybody else it might have worked. But the fact of the matter is even when you were just dating, you were able to read him unnervingly well.
He shouldn't have been surprised when you started to catch on.
"This is happening a lot", you said rolling onto your side and looking at him.
He huffed, arms still crossed behind his head with his eyes closed. The both of you still panting from the extra workout you had gotten.
"Does it ever not happen a lot?", he mutters.
"Yoongi", you sighed. "That's not what I meant".
He goes rigid beside you, joints locking and muscles becoming tense.
Fuck, how does he pass it off? He wasn't ready to talk about it, wasn't even ready to acknowledge how he felt about it. Still comfortably living in the delusion that this was a harmless and fleeting fantasy.
"I don't know what you're talking about", he said. Words coming out harsher than he would have liked, trying to keep themselves trapped behind his teeth.
Great, nailed it. Not at all a suspicious thing to say.
"Yoongi", you said more firmly. He felt you prop yourself up on your elbow as you leaned over him. He didn't even try to escape the eye contact, knew you wouldn't let him weasel out of it so easy.
So when you grabbed the point of his chin, turning his face towards you, he let himself be dragged into observation.
And there you were, glowing in that post orgasmic haze, looking at him with a firm slash of determination. He felt his head tip down, subconsciously trying to look at your still bare body, but you simply tapped the bottom of his chin making him stay in the intensity of that gaze.
You let out a huff, eyes trailing over him thoughtfully as he squirmed in your hold. Your hand went lax, instead of pinching now cupping the line of his jaw with your thumb and swiping across it soothingly.
"What's going on?", you ask hushed. Gentle in a way to not corner him, but firm in that he knew he wouldn't get out of the conversation until you decided you were done with him.
He swallowed, throat going a bit dry.
"I already told you why".
"Did you?", you say. And he hears it for what it is. Did you tell me the actual reason?
"I just like the way you look after…", he winces, unable to finish the sentence. Knew how weak it sounded coming out of his mouth.
"Really?", you say raising an eyebrow at him. "There is absolutely no other reason why you sleep with me every time I come home after training with Hoseok?".
He wished you didn't say his name. The syllables falling from your tongue, landing as an electric shock on his spine that felt close to panic.
He closes his eyes for a moment, refusing to look at you until he gathers himself. Small breaths in and out as you patiently hover over him, waiting for him to decide when he could continue the conversation.
When he managed to calm, when he thought he could give a passable casual look, he stared right at you.
"Am I not allowed to love my wife?".
He saw it land, every inch of it. The growing weight of his own fear, how the sharp edges of it caught on your skin as you offered him a brittle smile.
And he was scared, so scared that you would call him out. That you would make him sit there until he shared every detail of his conflicted mind with you.
Instead you leaned over him, hands fully cupping his face and pulling him towards you. The kiss you plant on him is petal soft, sliding over him with a tenderness that could only come with loving someone for years. It made him a bit teary, a warm pressure pricking at the corner of his eyes, as he couldn't help but curl into you. Fingers gliding to the back of your neck and rubbing against the skin there.
"Not more than I love you", you whispered as you pulled away from him, thumbs brushing against the apples of his cheeks.
Your eyes flickered between each of his, cataloguing whatever you found within them. But he took the escape for what it was and buried his nose into the dip of your collarbone, huffing the scent of your skin and letting it drag him deep into his own dreams.
He tried to forget after that. Thought if he kept pushing the thoughts away that they would drown and fizzle out.
He stopped fucking you after running days.
He invited Hobi over more often.
He tried to stop thinking of… it when he was with you.
The more he tried to bury it the more- forbidden the whole thing felt. Which, he thought, teeth digging into the meat of his thumb, was a problem in itself. The more guilt he felt, the more he felt he was doing something wrong. It made it that much harder to let go.
So he tried to act, increasingly normal. Which of course only succeeding in making him look more bizarre to you.
Every reaction with his best friend, analyzed.
Every night spent with you, considered.
Every silence that filled with the weight of something, noticed.
But you never called him out on it, and while that should have filled him with a sense of relief it merely compounded the pressure he was already feeling.
Nearly a whole month passed before he broke, and allowed himself a moment of weakness.
In a 'normal best friend behavior' exercise, he had invited Hobi over to attend a showcase you were putting on. It's not an event he usually participated in, unless you explicitly asked him to. In the early public facing stages of your relationship, he wanted to be involved with every aspect of your life you allowed him to. He didn't even think twice about attending events with you. Gradually though, he noticed that the conversation he shared between sips of champagne grew less about photography and more about music.
More about him, rather.
You played it off well, familiar with the industry. There was no indication to how you really felt other than a brief glance towards him out of the corner of your eye. A silent conversation that ran between the both of you: 'wrong composition to ask about, bud'. As if Yoongi would be willing to rub shoulders and do them any favors, when they were blatantly ignoring the work of his partner. Instead of fellow art enthusiasts, he saw more and more reporters attempting to pack themselves into your showcases.
So he made his presence scarce, unless you wanted the support.
In this case, you had. Excitedly talking over his shoulder as you hung yourself on him cooking dinner one night.
"I think you'd like this series actually, I got to take photos of traditional wood working and it's just gorgeous-", you ramble in his ear as he stirs the japchae. He smiles softly as you shoot rapid fire technical terms at him. Talking about 'luminosity' and how you were mounting them for the showcase.
"If you want me to come", he says and grabs your hand resting at his shoulder. "I will come", and he presses a soft kiss into your palm.
You hum, tilting your head to press one to his cheek. "Should we invite Hoseok?"
He manages to barely even pause in his stirring, "should we?", he asks and the sound comes out a lot sturdier than he feels.
"I mean- he's already coming over drinks after the showcase anyway"
He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "it is a little late notice, and he might not want to come to a black tie event on one of his days off".
You scoff into his shoulder, "please, when does that man ever pass up the opportunity to dress up and show off".
You had him there, he couldn't deny that without looking suspicious. Never mind the fact that he had a difficult time denying you anything.
What he wanted to do was bemoan the idea of seeing you and Hobi together in formal wear. What he managed to do was immediately acquiesce.
"I'll text him", he mutters. Words sliding out from the corner of his mouth.
You let out a brief excited noise, squeezing him real quick. "It's gonna be so funnn", you sing, sliding away from him and bounding off into the living room. "Invite him to get ready here too!", you shout over your shoulder.
He tenses, clenching chopsticks tightly in his fist.
"Why?", he asks. Though this time he doesn't manage to make his words sound anything but deeply agitated.
You poke your head around the corner, tilting your head and raising an eyebrow in his direction.
"If you are my personal guest to a showcase, you better believe I want a say in your outfit. I can't let him waltz into the showcase wearing… royal blue", you follow it with a shudder. "It would completely clash with the warm tones of my series!".
"Baby", he says and bites off a whine. "I know you don't set a dress code for these things".
You roll your eyes. "Not for the reporters or anything, but you both are with me. We're gonna match!".
He lets out a shuddering breath, nerves tingling at the phrase 'with me'. He could do this, he's gotten ready with Hoseok for over 13 years for god's sake. All he needed to do was think of it as just another day on the job. Just another quick change backstage.
"Ok", he says, turning to rub his hand over his face and pinch the bridge of his nose. "I will ask if he wants to get ready here, but I will not force him to be apart of some- live art agenda if he doesn't want to".
"He's going to", you say, and he can hear the smug smirk you speak through.
He sighs, long and drawn out, because yes. He's going to. He knows it.
So when he turns the burner off, fumbling in his pocket to grab his phone, shooting a quick text to Hobi, he can only accept the challenge to come.
Hoba: [Hyung~ taking me out?] 19:27
Hoba: [Of course I can ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧] 19:27
He bites his lip, teeth denting the flesh as he grips the edge of the counter.
Yoongi: [👍] 19:28
"He's coming", he calls to you, beginning to plate dinner with unsteady hands.
You say nothing, but he swears he hears a self satisfied huff from the other side of the wall.
When it's time for your showcase he barely manages to hold himself together. Pressed shoulder to shoulder with you both as you lean forward on the counter, applying eyeliner and yapping Hoseok's ear off about your series.
He takes it in stride, asking questions even though he knows he has no idea what you're talking about. Buttoning his freshly pressed dress shirt and affixing his cuff-links.
No reaction, other than a brief glance before he moves to fix his tie.
He even maintains conversation when he sees Hobi help you choose jewelry, moving behind you to clasp the necklace.
"Don't want your husband to help with this part?", he teases, eyes flicking to Yoongi playfully.
"yah-", Yoongi admonishes half-heartedly.
"If I need to choose between a pair of beanies, I'll call him in", you say snickering.
And when he's at the gallery, when all he has to do is turn slightly to the left and see both of you standing beside him, he stays in the role of smiling proud husband. Rather than a man who is currently in moral and sexual distress.
The only tell he gives is when you're leaving the gala, when the toe of your heel catches on an uneven part in the floor, which sends you stumbling forward. His hand darts out on instinct, going to grasp your waist to steady you before you can fall to the floor. Though, instead of meeting your skin, his palm spreads across another. Hobi's hand. He glances over at him quick, fingers flexing across his knuckles.
Hoseok send him a sunny, beaming grin. Wiggling his fingers underneath Yoongi's, a non-verbal 'I got it'.
Yoongi parts his lips slightly, looking at both of their hands spread across the bare skin of your back. He swallows before he pulls his hand away, with the urgency of someone who had been burned.
He thought once he got home he would be ok. That when he sat down and was able to put some distance between him and Hobi, that his ever climbing temperature would be able to cool down.
That was when it all went to shit.
"Yoongi", you called over your shoulder, closing and opening cabinets in the kitchen. "Where the hell is that wine you got?".
"What wine?", he calls to you. Drying his hands after washing them in the sink.
"That wine you got when you were in…", you wave a hand at him aimlessly. "I don't know, you guys travel a lot. Some country that makes a fuck ton of alcoholic grape juice".
He hears Hobi snicker behind him. "Specific", he says shooting you a teasing glance from his seat at the bar.
"I tried my best", you say all dramatic. Voice taking on a forlorn pitch as you continue your search through the kitchen.
"Do you want me to go check the basement?", he asks resting his hip against the counter. "There might be some down there".
"Mmm", you hum thoughtfully. "Yeah that would be nice, thank you baby".
He sees Hobi mouth "baby" at him as he passes, fake gagging and then giggling about it. He rolls his eyes at his friends antics, a small breath of amusement leaving his nose on his way past.
Giving him shit as if he wasn't 10 times worse when he was in a relationship.
A small twinge of discomfort at that thought, the corners of his mouth tucking down. He was always so… insufferable when he was into someone. He had the unique incapability of hiding just how attracted he was to a partner. It was obvious, abundantly so, to anybody within a 10 mile radius of him. I mean, the guy never even tried to hide it. More than content to be caught by multiple people.
Well that's… he thought, running his fingers over dusty wine labels. That's a topic he was firmly putting into the "no longer allowed to think about category". Caught and Hoseok in a sentence? No, shoving that thought away immediately.
He spent several minutes in the basement, combing through your- frankly concerning amount of alcohol. As he dusted off old labels, and sneezed repeatedly at the dust coming off them, he decided trying to find a wine off of your incredibly vague description was a waste of time. He pulled out a random bottle from the shelf, and seeing that it had a foreign language written on the label, decided it was good enough as he tucked it under his arm and made his trek up the stairs. I mean, the three of you were not picky. Hoseok would definitely just drink grape juice if you gave him the choice. No need to break out the good shit for someone you had both known for years.
When he turned the corner, heading into the kitchen, the sight he caught stopped him dead in his tracks. You had your back turned to Hobi, chatting with him as you cut up some fruit for them to snack on. On a surface level he seemed engaged, humming thoughtfully at your questions. Interjecting with details about his own day when appropriate. He clearly did not see, or realize that somebody was just behind the corner watching him.
He felt his hands shake slightly, lips parting as he tracked the movement of his friends pupils. And he knew without a doubt that they were glued to your ass. He would flick them back up, if you began to turn towards him. Smile sun-shiny and beaming, and then you would turn back to your task and like a magnet being pulled his gaze would inevitably fall lower. Much lower, trailing slow and thoughtfully over your dips and curves.
Yoongi felt his own lips part, breath coming out uneven as he stayed there. Tucked around the corner, watching him watch you.
A reasonable reaction would have been to step forward, disrupt the show. Maybe clear his throat and look pointedly at him.
A look that said, hey man that's my wife. Watch yourself.
Instead what he found himself doing was staying hidden by the wall so he could see…
A swallow.
If he would do anything else.
He watched as Hobi darted out his tongue and ran it slow over his bottom lip when you leaned over the counter to grab another apple.
Yoongi felt his own tongue dart out, mapping the same slow path he watched Hobi's take. And the action made him breathless, fingers trembling as he wanted to dig them into his own thighs. The movement of his arms caused smooth glass to go sliding out of his grip. Wine loosing itself from the upper crease of his arm. He watched in slow motion as it careened out of his grip and onto the wooden floor. His eyes still locked on Hoseok's mouth. His whole body feeling like lead as he failed to even try and reach out to catch it.
The sound was loud, glass splintering as it shattered on the floor. Dark red wine running in maroon rivers across it's surface. He didn't dare move from the spot as the shards fell beside his feet. Socks stained and hands turned sticky.
You jumped, swirling around and hopping quickly over to him.
"Yoongi!", you yelped. "Are you alright?".
On another day he might of chastised you. An aish watch your feet, I'm fine. Don't let yourself get hurt for me. As it were, he was only capable of staring at the sharp tense lines of Hobi's shoulder blades. They were hiked up to his ears, as he slowly turned to make eye contact with Yoongi.
You fret over him, picking glass off of his feet.
"You didn't get cut did you?".
He swallows, and flicks his tongue against the corner of his mouth. Stares at Hobi as he looks back at him. Gaze intense, unbreakable.
Yoongi knew. Hoseok knew.
That slight sense of panic in his eyes, that look… the look of someone who had been caught. It sent a shudder through his spine, shivering in the hallway with wine on his slippers.
"No", he rasped. "Just surprised… that's all".
He wasn't proud to admit that it was another night which lead to him seeking out your touch.
When Hoseok had finally left he pressed himself against you, half-hard and seeking.
"Yoongi!", you had yelped. Caught of guard by the sudden onslaught.
"Want you", he had murmured leaning forward to press his tongue to yours. Gliding across your bottom lip slow, shuddering when he imagined another.
He didn't even bother to hide the desperation behind his movements. Touch fast and needy when he took you to bed. Fumbling with the both of your clothes and just shoving fabric out of the way so he could slide into you that much faster.
You indulged him, matching his energy. His neediness. Took it so good, and without complaint.
"Fuck", he groaned. Tongue sliding against anywhere he could reach. Across your jaw, the line of your shoulder. He hit a particularly hard thrust, bracing his feet onto the floor as he drilled up into you. You let out a choked noise, hand sliding behind his waist to dig into his back.
"Shit, like that", you sighed into his ear, hips rolling in languorous circles on his lap.
He grabbed at the side of your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh there and pulled you forward to sit you more firmly on his dick.
Holding you there, he drove himself up using the leverage of the floor, bouncing you slightly with his movements. You moan breathy in his ear, determined to meet his every thrust.
"God you're incredible", he pants into your shoulder, toes curling as you clench around him.
His teeth dig into your shoulder as he gets closer to cumming, biting down harshly to muffle his moans.
"Yoongi!", you yelp scrabbling to grab at his shoulders as he picks up speed. "Fuckkkkk", you moan. Head falling back as he slides a hand in between you and rubs fast circles on your clit.
"Gonna cum", you whimper. Legs squirming beside him. "So close baby".
He separates his teeth from your shoulder, licking over it slow to feel the divots left in the skin. He paints a path all the way up to your ear. Nipping the lobe between his teeth as he growls in your ear.
"Give it to me", he pants.
And you do, like the good listener you are. You clench down around him, hard, and it sends him hurdling towards his finish.
He swears his eyes roll into the back of his head, body arching up into you as he cums hard.
You gasp through it, squirming as he pumps slowly into you. Movements turning slick and audible when he cums in you.
But the same as that first night, that first dreadful night, when he pulls out he does so hard.
He maneuvers you out of his lap, twisting to lay you on the mattress as you gasp. Coming down from the high.
You pout at him when you see, as he hovers over you to give you pecks on the side of your face.
"Did you finish?", you ask, chest still heaving.
"I did", he assures. Pressing a kiss to your forehead.
"Not enough?", you ask, sliding your calf along his dick. He grinds into it a few times, as you give him some pressure, but he sees the exhaustion in your face. Knows you have to get up early the next day for work.
"I'll take care of it", he says giving you an assuaging peck when you whine. "Get some sleep baby, it's late".
You sigh, sinking into the mattress as he throws sheets over you. Before he can even turn off the bedside lamp, you are out. Sleeping deeply and none the wiser to his problem.
He bites his lip as his palm roams your thigh, rubbing soothing patterns into the skin, considering.
He was still throbbing, thinking about the fact that he caught Hobi checking you out. So turned on by the confirmation that his friend was physically attracted to his wife. He bit his lip as he watched you snore away, mumbling and muttering in your sleep.
Was it ok, to do it without your knowledge? Think about you and Hobi… together. He didn't want to whore his wife out or anything. At least he was pretty sure that wasn't the reason. There was just something appealing about the idea of you two- being together.
Without him.
And he was afraid to name it, what specifically was making his dick twitch when he thought about it. What that meant for the both of you if it was persistent.
He sighed, sliding off your soaked underwear. The least he could do was clean you up, instead of just staring at you sleep while he had a sexual mental breakdown. He padded into the bathroom, shivering slightly at the cold feeling on his feet. Aiming to toss your underwear in the hamper, he stopped in his tracks when he passed the bathroom sink.
A bottle of cologne, sitting precariously on the edge.
Not his own, but Hobi's.
He stared at it, sweat beading at his temple as he clenched the soiled fabric of your underwear between his fingers.
He must have left it here when he was getting ready.
Slowly he felt his hand reach for the bottle, grabbing it in his other hand while he stood ramrod straight at the corner of the sink. He took a cursory sniff, eyes closing as he savored the woody scent of the bottle.
It made him harder, if anything. And it came with a thought.
A filthy one.
The idea of it made him break out into a cold sweat because he couldn't- there's no way he was seriously thinking of…
With unsteady hands he pressed his thumb to the top of the nozzle, depressing it slightly. His teeth biting his lip so hard the skin was turning white from the pressure.
Nobody was here to catch him.
So with a full body tremble he pressed fully down and gave a couple of good sprays onto wettest part of your underwear.
He set it down, fumbling and shaking. Nearly sending another glass object careening to the floor.
His lips parted as he exhaled in slight awe, finger running across your underwear and trying to parse out where the cologne had actually landed. It was too wet to see the difference, if he didn't know he wouldn't have been able to tell.
Then suddenly he was painfully aware of how hard he still was.
He palmed at it, gliding over the length of himself, to adjust not to…
But then he leaned forward and gave the soaked fabric a sniff, pulling in a deeper breath than he had for the cologne itself.
The mixing of scents made his knees grow weak, legs turning into jelly. His favorite taste in the world with the smell of Hobi.
It took little time to decide to rip off his boxers, shaky hands fumbling with the waistband before all but flinging it off of him.
He gripped his cock in his hand, giving it slow tugs. More teasing than committing to getting off like this. Mind full of should I, should I, should I's.
He took a deeper breath, letting out a moan that was definitely too loud considering you were sleeping one room over.
Fuck it, he thought, and got to work pumping himself fully.
He kept it close to his nose, taking greedy pulls of the scent as he stroked his cock. Hand growing slick with the mess the both of you had made prior to this bathroom excursion.
"Shit-!", he moaned. Twisting his palm around the head of his cock. Moving his hips now to meet the motion of his own hand.
Is this how you would smell, after fucking him? Would you leave the scent of him lingering on your skin? How long would it take before he began to smell Hobi every time he went down on you. Tongue lapping at your folds, chasing the wood notes and the…
He took one ragged breath, before he lolled out his tongue and made a slow drag over the soaked fabric. When he tasted the bitter flavor of cologne he let out a choked moan and spilled all over his hand, splattering onto the floor.
He pants softly in the aftermath, hands falling limp at his sides.
It was loud, the sound of it. The observation sent a cold tingling through him, as fear winds its way down his spine. He didn't know what he would say if you were to stumble out of bed and see him standing there in the mess of his own guilt.
Slowly, he moved towards the door. Tips of his toes first and then pressing his heel down into the marble. Softer that way, instead of the loud pwap his feet typically makes on the floor. Brushing his fingers against the handle, he hesitates. Studying the grain of the wood, head buzzing with the idea that you might be awake on the other side of the door.
He twists it slowly, avoiding the loud click of gears turning into place. When it is tilted all the way down, he pushes forward with the weight of his body. Centimeter by centimeter until he has just enough space for his eye to see your position on the bed.
There you were, sleeping soundly. Breaths coming out in peaceful puffs as your shoulders rise and fall. You were none the wiser to the mess he left in the aftermath of his own lack of self control. He rubbed at his chest, with the heel of his palm pressed into his heartbeat massaging at the frantic pace. It gradually slowed the longer he stood there watching you. Nobody to watch him, nobody to catch him. A secret that could stay buried for just a little longer. Hands shaking a bit, he reaches forward to pull the bathroom door shut. The wood swings into place with a quiet thwick.
It's not the end of the world, not in the slightest. He knows that. You may have been a mere feet from… the incident, but you didn't wake up to it. You were asleep, in bed. Right where he left you. He fumbles with his boxers, sliding and catching on the band, tucking his dick into the fabric as he feels the pace of his breaths speed up.
The phrase repeats through his head, running circles around his panicked thoughts. It does little to calm down the pace of his heart. The muscle jumps in his chest when he sees the translucent shine of the mess he made on the marble floor.
"Fuck", Yoongi mutters to himself and paces over to the kitchen sink. He grabs a fistful of hair, clenching at his roots with a harsh pressure. The reflection in the mirror stares back at him, just as panicked and shaken. He watches as it darts a tongue across it's dry lips, trembling as it combs hair away from it's forehead. I mean… it could have been worse? It seems to say, shaking fingers reaching to turn the faucet on.
He washes his hands first, still slick in his own mess.
The feeling of doing something he wasn't supposed to, it sets his senses on edge. Ears sharp and attuned to the sounds just behind the bathroom door, listening for any sound that would suggest you woke up and then rolled out of bed to find him.
Grabbing a wash cloth from the linen storage he runs it under the water, in a rush to clean the mess he could feel like eyes glaring through him.
He spends several minutes there, crouched on the bathroom floor, running a damp cloth over the grout. Knees getting pink and bruised from the constant pressure, he runs it back and forth through his own cum.
He mops the floor until there is nothing left, no possible evidence of what he did. And yet he stays there, scrubbing.
Pairings: Min Yoongi x reader, Jung Hoseok x reader, Min Yoongi x Jung Hoseok
Tags/Warnings: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Established Relationship, Best Friends to Lovers, Infidelity Kink, Cuckolding, Repressed Homosexuality, Eventual Polyamory
Drop Date: Saturday, 06/27
"What's going on?", you ask hushed. Gentle in a way to not corner him, but firm in that he knew he wouldn't get out of the conversation until you decided you were done with him.
He swallowed, throat going a bit dry.
"I already told you why".
"Did you?", you say. And he hears it for what it is. Did you tell me the actual reason?
"I just like the way you look after…", he winces, unable to finish the sentence. Knew how weak it sounded coming out of his mouth.
"Really?", you say raising an eyebrow at him. "There is absolutely no other reason why you sleep with me every time I come home after training with Hoseok?".
He wished you didn't say his name. The syllables falling from your tongue, landing as an electric shock on his spine that felt close to panic.
He closes his eyes for a moment, refusing to look at you until he gathers himself. Small breaths in and out as you patiently hover over him, waiting for him to decide when he could continue the conversation.
When he managed to calm, when he thought he could give a passable casual look, he stares right at you.
"Am I not allowed to love my wife?".
He saw it land, every inch of it. The growing weight of his own fear, how the sharp edges of it caught on your skin as you offered him a brittle smile.
im thinking of writing fics of my own what’s your advice to me because i don’t wanna be a shitty writer
Hi, Ali baby! To be honest, at this point in my life I am not even fully sure what separates a ‘good’ writer from a ‘bad’ one, because so much of that comes down to personal taste.
I am very nitpicky when I read, not even just on a prose level, but storytelling-wise in general. My ADHD pattern recognition goes insane when I am following a story, so when things do not line up or questions remain hanging for too long, they bother me deeply. Even in movies and shows, I cannot turn that part of my brain off. That is a huge part of why I write the way I do. There are absolutely people out there who would tell you my writing is too slow, too detailed, too explanatory, too much, whatever. And that is fine. Truly. Because someone else will read the exact same thing and eat it up with a spoon.
That is why my first real piece of advice is: know that taste is subjective, and do not build your entire sense of worth around whether everybody likes what you do, because they will not.
My biggest practical advice, honestly, is to put content warnings first and be thorough with them. I think that’s one of the easiest ways to protect both yourself and your readers. A lot of people get upset not because the writing is bad, but because they expected a completely different experience going in. If you are clear about the tone, themes, and material from the start, you cut down so much unnecessary backlash. Not all of it, obviously. Some people will dislike you no matter what, and I have had to learn that the hard way too. You can’t spend your life trying to fit into everybody else’s expectations. That is a miserable way to create. Some people are simply not your audience, and that does not mean you failed! It just means they should go read something else. You’re not writing for the people determined to misunderstand you.
And psychologically, I think that matters a lot more than people admit. To keep going as a writer, and to keep putting out work you are actually proud of, you need some mental backbone. Praise and criticism tend to arrive in the same package. Being perceived is the trade-off. So you need to know what’s yours before the noise starts. Sit with your writing and ask yourself what your main pillars are.
What do you care about most? What are the things you will defend even if someone else dislikes them?
In my case, it is realism, psychological depth, and slow burn. Those are the bones of my writing. Everything else can move, but those stay. I think every writer should know their own version of that, because otherwise every opinion from the outside can yank you in a different direction.
And then there is style. I do think it helps to have little things that feel distinctly yours. The marks people start recognizing even when they do not see your username yet! I’ve had readers tell me they figured out two different fics were mine because of my use of scent, or the way I use nicknames, and I love that! That is such a special thing as a writer. So pay attention to what you gravitate toward naturally. The way you describe people. The kinds of dynamics you love. The themes you keep returning to. That is where your voice lives. (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ
Finally: read. A lot. Read good writing, bad writing, weird writing, things outside your comfort zone. Fill your brain with texture. And do things that feed your creativity too!!
For me, playlists are a huge one. I make specific playlists for each fic and they help me unlock scenes, moods, dialogue, all of it. Use spellcheck, care about grammar, thesaurus are your best friends (wordhippo, onelook), trust your instincts, and most importantly, enjoy yourself. If you are having fun and writing from a place that feels true to you, that already puts you in a much better spot than you think.
Now go write that story you’re itching to tell!! Mwah. <3
I wanna know your ALL time fav junkook ff’s (excluding ur own 🤭)
Okay so! My all-time favorite jungkook fanfics all circle back to miss Holly! Dappleddaisies, for those who haven’t been blessed by her writing yet. She’s my BIGGEST inspiration when it comes to writing and I absolutely adore every single thing she’s ever put out there. I could go on a loooong ramble about how much I like each of her fics, but I don’t want to make my fangirling the spotlight—so if you haven’t read anything from her please go check her out! She’s absolutely amazing. @alphabetboyluvr / @.dappleddaisies on wattpad!
With my work life recently I haven’t been able to read much at all—all my leisure time goes to writing (and lately drawing too), but I’ve been meaning to read recommended writers and show them love and support!
I recently started Help Wanted by @merakoo and I really really liked the first chapter! There’s just something about a pent-up, sexually frustrated, restraining-himself man… (I wrote kgp!jeon for a reason 😝).
Others I’ve seen constantly recommended and are currently in my TBR list are @words-in-purple @ktownshizzle @glossdebut @tarathetic @seokbite @taevescence @yoonia @hoseoksluna @silverozy @divakoo @voyter and @wintrbears ! I’ve also read @gukcnt and she’s amazing! And of course @matchastwb and my girls @kooppss @writesvani and @risky-peaches @hopechip !
Please shower them with all the love in the world! 😚🩷
idk if this is controversial or not, but I really like when non-professional writing like fic has hints of author bleedthrough when it comes to like, what different people assume is common knowledge. Like sometimes I’ll be reading a fic and it’ll just be obvious that the person writing it is either obsessed with medicine or has been to medical school, because they’ll use terms that are just a shade too technical without explaining them. It’s never the super specific stuff that they’d know other people are unaware of, it’s always the things that once you’ve known it for a while you forget it’s niche knowledge. It’s fun because as a fanfic reader it reminds me of how this is a fun hobby community, where everyone has their own thing going on outside of fandom. Everyone’s got their own specialties and they can’t help but write that into their work sometimes
recently in one of the fandom spaces a new account emerged that flags fics from writers if they believe it to have ai elements. this then sends a hate campaign towards the writer whose fic has been flagged and reposted as ai. what are your thoughts on this?
block and report the account for harassment.
(if they "reposted" other people's fics, the authors can absolutely report them for plagiarism/copyright infringement too, especially if it's on ao3 — ao3 takes both this and harassment very seriously.)
it's sad that these people are often the ones who claim to want to "protect" the writing community. but in doing so, they indulge in harassment, speculations, witch hunt and accusations, all based on vibes, and they drive more and more genuine writers away from sharing their works. so these people are the ones harming the writing community as much as ai does, if not more.
also, mind you, every ai "tell tale" — em-dash, short sentence stacking, "not x, not y, but z" type of sentence — is something humans actually write before (I enjoy using these things in my writing, and I've been writing for almost a decade now, way before gen ai became a thing), otherwise ai wouldn't have been able to mimic these traits to begin with.
but even if someone does use ai, which is something I don't agree with, harassment still won't make anybody the good guy. and yeah I'll never condone harassment. no matter what.
if you (general you) suspect a fic is ai-generated and if that bothers you, quietly click away from it instead of resorting to being a bully and risking wrongly accusing a genuine, innocent writer whose human-made work didn't pass your vibe check.
even if someone says they use ai and if that bothers you, click away from their works. mute them, block them. don't engage with them or their works. harassment won't make you the hero, it'll just make you a bully (and you can absolutely be reported for it).
Two years after your husband’s death, you receive a gift from your family: an android version of him, programmed to help you process grief. But Jungkook had secrets—and so did you. And no one warned the machine what love looks like when it’s wilted, when it’s already buried. Not every resurrection is a miracle.
do you think if your fics didn’t get much attention would you still be writing them? what i mean is like did the support help you write more or you would still be doing them either way even if they didn’t get attention and the support is like a plus
No, I wouldn't.
I would love to give you the prettier, more palatable answer because it sounds noble and Main Character-y, but that would be me being fake and trying to be agreeable and likeable, and that’s just… not my brand. Honesty is the whole point here, and I genuinely think it’s one of the main reasons Kiki Nation stays so healthy: nobody has to guess what I mean, because I say it. 🫡
Many of you weren't around for the early days, but I worked with a pretty strict engagement goal system because I have ADHD. I know I repeat this ad nauseam, but I genuinely cannot stress it enough: I do not have an internal reward system. It's just not there. Never has been. I don't feel satisfaction after completing things—just this vague sense of relief, like ticking off a box on a list that immediately repopulates with more boxes. I've always relied heavily on external motivation and pressure, and before anyone goes ‘oh that's so sad,’ it's not. It's neuroscience. It's how my brain specifically functions, and I built a system that worked around it instead of pretending it didn't exist.
Longfics especially need that external scaffolding because they're not exactly the winning trend right now. One-shots dominate, short-form content reigns supreme post-TikTok, and attention spans are in the gutter. But I've always gravitated toward long, heavy storylines—I can't connect with a book under 100k words or a series under three seasons. That's just how I'm wired. So naturally, that's what I create. The downside? When you're the creator in an era of fifteen-second dopamine hits, you're fighting an uphill battle.
The good thing is that Kiki Nation has ALWAYS been incredibly understanding and accommodating about it—I will never be thankful enough for that (ily all so so so so much <333). But the truth is, at some point the system got messy. I'd set goals and people would create fake accounts to boost chapters, which was sweet but also unhinged BECAUSE I had this two-way commitment thing going: if I was asking you guys to commit, then I owed you the same, so I'd promise to post chapters once goals were met. Except goals started getting hit within twenty-four hours and I cannot physically write at that pace while maintaining the quality I'm aiming for. The pressure became unsustainable. So I let it go.
Now I'm more laid-back. I try to keep you fed weekly, I check engagement to see what to prioritize, and chapters tend to go up naturally after goals are reached—but ultimately my ADHD brain makes the final call. (。- ̀ᴗ-)✧ It's healthier this way. The goals still get met pretty quickly, but without the weight they carried in the beginning.
But yeah. Without engagement, I wouldn't keep writing. My ADHD makes it impossible to keep pushing if nobody cares. That's just the reality of it. ⊂(￣▽￣)⊃
So if you’re reading this and you love a story—any story, not just mine—please show it. Leave a comment, even if it’s just keysmashing or yelling at a character. Reblog it. Send the author an unhinged message about how you’re thinking about their fic during your work meeting (I know I do). It makes our entire day. It might be the sole reason that author keeps writing the fic you love. We’re in a low engagement era and it’s brutal out here, but your words matter more than you think. They’re the difference between a story continuing and an author closing the doc forever. 🙂↕️💖
Tags: Hoseok X Reader, Fantasy AU, Bandit Hoseok x Wizard, Tavern Owner Reader. No pronouns used for Reader. Unresolved sexual tension.
A/N: Hey y'all. I'll make it it quick, this was a fever dream brought on last night by a tiktok post. You heard me right. I might make a second part to this (with, hear me out, sex pollen), buuuut it spawned into existence so catastrophically I cant promise anything. I hope you enjoy this piece of "JHope is a Little Shit" as much as I did. Love you.
"Not you again."
You nearly roll your eyes at the scene in front of you. The young man chuckles, sitting at your chair, in your office, in your tavern. He even has the gall to have kicked his feet up your accountancy desk.
"Is what a way to greet an old friend?"
You snorts, dropping your apron on a nearby chair, staying close to the walls.
You never know what this bandit is planning in his head.
"Old? Assuredly. Friend? Aren't you going too far, now, Jung?"
His last name only makes his smile shine darker under the office's run-down halo.
'C'mon, Wizard. We lived through a lot together."
"By your own damn fault that's for sure." You lean against your closet. "What do you want this time, thief? Heroes, a hand, money?"
"Oh, darling, you wound me." He finally moves his feet away from your desk, before getting up from the chair with a little jump, and approaching you slowly, in his typical cat-like manner. "You know you're worth more to me than just a handful of money."
Something shines at the edge of your vision, something he catches single-handedly, without even looking at it.
A golden coin.
One with an eerie glow you can recognize anywhere.
"Where the fuck did you get that?"
His eyes stay on your face, observing your reaction.
"it's a gift," he whispers, "from a client."
"So now you got clients who casually own a Merlin coin? Do you even know how much that is worth on the magic market?"
"I got an idea, and that is exactly why I need you." His smile falters a little bit.
"What possibly could you need me for?"
In the years you have unfortunately known Jung Hoseok, you have rarely seen his face go grim. As much as his looks, his charm and his skills have allowed him to progress to one of the most infamous and hired thief of this side of the country, you know his hunger for challenge can sometime end him in heists bigger than he can take. And a heist involving one of the most precious tools of magical power with a client he keeps being mysterious about? It ticks for you that Jung probably bit bigger than he can chew on.
"I need information. Information that is hard to find, about people even harder to steal from."
"You're going to have to give me more than that."
His face goes serious.
" I accepted a trade. My client," he spins the coin in the air again, "holds very close to his heart his collection of magical artefacts. Those coins? They mean nothing to him."
Your face makes an impossibly confused expression. Those coins are a major source of conflicts between magical families. Royal families own at most a few dozens, and keep them in the trust of royal magicians and healers. Merlinic Wizards keep their coins strictly in their bloodline, and occasionally produce them for the cost of a mid sized diamond. Most of the magical world have only seen them in museums, and havent held anything stronger than a magical crystal if their work didnt warrant it.
"What does he want."
Hoseok does not answer, just keep spinning the coin mindlessly.
"Hoseok, tell me what he wants."
"Before I do, you have to promise me you trust me."
"You're worrying me."
"I know, but please, Wizard, promise me."
You hold up a pinky, the universal sign of honesty, and he binds yours to his as a small magical binding known as a promise.
"At first, he only said he needed a vial of an ingredient for a potion. I thought he was one of those crazy alchemists, he would asked for a gold elixir or something. The usual expensive, hard to find bullshit that is heavily guarded enough people would rather pay a professional so if he fails, they can disappear."
"It was not just an elixir, was it?"
"No," he sighs.
He catches the coin mid-flight.
"He want a vial of fae blood."
Your blood runs cold.
"Fae bl-. No. You can't. It will kill you."
Fae are incredibly hard to kill, and they do not have humans, magical or not, in their hearts. Plus, any of their body parts, including their blood, allow the holder to put the fae under a spell for virtually forever, to the extent most fae, even when they need to extract their own blood for magical reasons, usually severely curse the vial in ways that would atrociously kill even a skilled witch. You do not want to think about what such a curse could do to poor, reckless, can barely perform intermediate magic Jung Hoseok.
"Actually no, my uh- client, made sure of it." He takes out of his pocket a small claw with runes carved onto it, attached to a necklace. You snatch it out of his hands, or moreso, he lets you snatch it out of his hands.
You let your fingers runs on the carvings, reading the runes and sigils carefully, admiring the handiwork. A weird smell emanates from the claw so you bring it to your nose. Rotten egg and cinder.
Dragon Sulfur.
"Is that also directly from your client's collection?"
"From himself, in fact."
You close your eyes in frustration.
A dragon, of course.
Only a dragon would seek a full collection of magical artefacts and have both enough desire and the resources to risk sending a very famous thief to anger the faeries.
"Why did you…?"
"Ah, wrong question. You're not going to like the answer to that one."
"Blood contract?"
"No! Dear gods, no. I'm not that stupid." He leans back down against your desk, the dragon claw back in his hands.
"Debatable."
"Not the point. Let's say it's huh- a favor."
You sigh,"did you lose a gamble at Kelly's again?"
"You have no proof."
"Whatever. We both know my mead is better anyway." He snorts, but doesn't say anything, a knowing sparkle in his eye.
"What do you need to know?"
"Actually, I need your entire knowledge about the fae realm. I'm not personally going there," he says, as he sees your eyes becoming wider. "My client already has a target. An old fae who lives east. He established a small domain near the Orion Falls. Strong enough to deter most humans, still permeable to dragonic magic."
"You have no idea how to undo a magic-based magic system, do you?"
He smiles, almost sheepish, "touché."
"When are you set to go?"
"In two days, before the first light of morning."
"It will be a dark moon…" you whisper to yourself, pacing away from the closet, your mind running thinking about the types of magic this kind of heist will require.
"How much did he offer for this?"
He suddenly chirps up again.
"My weight in Merlin coins."
You stop in your tracks.
"Im sorry?"
"You have heard." He sits back down in your chair, the coin twirling between his knuckles. "I saw it, with my own two eyes. dig my hands through it. All real. My full weight in Merlin coins."
"It can't be. Must have been a glamour."
"Nope, we both drank a truth potion before the deal. I asked explicitly."
"Are you-"
"I also made him admit he wanted to bang the royal concubine's older sister, so I'm sure he was telling the truth."
The concubine older sister being known to have a pretty fiery character, you don't doubt even the dragon blushed at the admission.
"I'm going to be honest with you, Bandit. This is going to cost you a pretty penny. Everyone knows the surface stuff, but people rarely try to trick the fae. You're going to need a good number of magical tools just to enter the domain safely, not even talking about potentially fooling the fairy or his protections."
"I trust your gadgets, Wiz. Name your price."
"A third of your prize."
He stops fidgeting with his coin mid-flight, his frown almost comically deep."Excuse me?"
"It's a fairy we are talking about, Hoseok. Not some pixie. If they catch you in your domain, you're either dead or condemned to eternal slavery."
"A fifth."
"A third, and i find you a full arsenal and a companion I pay myself."
"Is that really necessary?" He tosses the coin again.
"Would you rather walk into a fae's den magic-less and alone?"
He catches the coin, looking up at you, grinning like a devil.
"Deal."
"What is included in the package?"
You look up, thinking, counting the spells on your fingers. "A cloacking spell for starters. I'll enchant your tools for good luck. An emergency gift of gab candy. Protection should be covered by the dragon claw, but i'll give you a protection medallion to hide in your clothes just in case."
"And for my little companion?" He wiggle his eyebrows. "Do I get blessed with your assistance, like in the good old days?"
You snort. "Hell no, I'm too old for this shit. If you're lucky, I'll find you an assassin. If not, you'll have to do with a random mercenary. Don't tell them about the coins, I'll pay them myself."
The grin hasn't left his face. If anything, it's getting more malicious.
"See? It's always a pleasure dealing with you, Wizard. You don't get this kind of customer experience at Kelly's."
"So that's all I am to you? Customer experience?"
"Of course not. You also got better mead." You stare him down in pretend annoyance, but something old and stubborn blooms again in the secret of your chest.
"Come back tomorrow, an hour before close. I should have had time to work him a little."
His smirk shines in the darkness,"do you think I can get a good luck kiss, as well?"
You nearly choked on air, and will all of your face muscles into not showing it.
"In your dreams, Jung,"he laughs," Now, shoo. I got a cash register to count."
The day after went perfectly normally.
You spent the morning making and selling your typical teas and coffees for the early birds. Service got slow at lunch, so you focused on replenishing your stock of spells, and writing down on magical paper all the fresh gossip of the morning.
By late afternoon, the tavern started filling up with its usual set of customers, as your employee clocked in.
Adventurers on a quest, mercenaries looking for a job, lost people needing an informant.
Min Yoongi tends to come every two or three days, when he's not on a job. He still wears the old robes of the Queen's Guard, without the royal coat of arms. He doesn't drink on weekdays, only orders an apple juice in a whisky tumbler, and listens in.
You're almost sad to interrupt his little ritual.
You slide on the seat next to him, and his eyes follow you, almost surprised.
"I found a something for you."
He quirks his eyebrow, not saying a word.
You slide a piece of paper towards him.
"Heist. Fae-blood. East. Company of 2. Professional."
His eyes take a second to read the paper, then looks up at you, and tilts his head.
"I know, it's not much. It's someone I trust though. Wouldn't want him with just anyone."
"Him?" He whispers so low, if you weren't looking directly at his face, you would have missed it.
Hoseok's reputation is not explicitly tied to your establishment, but he has been around enough for the most observant regulars to notice it.
You nod discreetly.
"He knows how to do his job, he just needs… Assistance. For the magical aspects."
Yoongi doesn't say anything. He's not rejecting your offer just yet, so there is still hope.
"Stay until I close. We'll discuss it then." Yoongi glances at his watch, before nodding impercetibly, and you go back to your work station.
Hoseok arrives like a flower a few hours later. As per his usual, he charms half of the clientele on his way to the bar, dapping old coworkers, sending out flying kisses and hearts.
You notice all of it, and collect the information like a precious nectar. Who swoons, who laughs, who pretends not to send daggers in his back with their eyes. You look at him work his magic of no magic, his art of revealing everyone's secrets in a crowd, secrets ready for you to drink up.
You remember how easy it feels to be on his team, how well your skillsets match, how it makes something warm you don't like naming unfurl in your chest.
You try not to let it distract you on the job.
"Hey sweetheart," he stands in front of you, leaning forward, his elbow against your side of the bar. "Can i get a spirit of peach in lemonade?"
"5 coppers." His eyebrows go up.
"Did the prices hike up since last time?"
"It's the extra fee for people who dare to call me "sweetheart"." You send him the fakest smile you can muster.
He grins, looking for the coins in his pockets.
"5 coppers for the bitter wizard, got you."
On the corner of your eyes, you notice Yoongi staring at your interaction.
You catch his eyes while preparing Hoseok's drink, and Hoseok catches you looking at something behind him.
"Ooh!" he leans closer, and whispers. "Have you found someone?"
"Wait tonight," you set the drink in front of him without another word, and he hands you the coppers.
Something mischievous grows in his eyes as he wraps his lips around the straw, and looks at you with something akin to fascination.
You pointedly avoid his stare to keep on working.
You dont miss the way no matter who comes up to speak to him, shake his hands, or wrap their arms around him, his eyes always end up coming back to you.
By the time you're about to close, you had to cast an icey wind around yourself to prevent your face from getting warm.
The last few customers go peacefully, leaving you, the assassin and the bandit to talk. You lock the door, before sitting down at Yoongi's table, Hoseok following you.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Jung Hoseok," he holds out his hand.
"I know," Yoongi mumbles. "Min Yoongi, assassin," he accepts his hand with a shake.
Hoseok whistles, "I didn't know our local tavern owner had their hands in the big leagues."
"I thought you were known for having your fingers in their purses?" Yoongi cocks his eyebrow in a way that delights Hoseok.
"I like you, we'll get along well."
"Sure. Give me back my watch."
The delight in Hoseok's eyes only intensifies as he pulls Yoongi's watch out of seemlingly thin air, the watch that you remember seeing on his arm just a second ago.
"Sorry, I had to try it."
"Real silver fingers you got here, thief," says Yoongi, tying his watch back onto his wrist, eyeing Hoseok's hand carefully.
"So, what is the plan?" He asks.
"A single fairy, east, near Orion falls. I need to get a vial of their blood for my client. According to him, he keeps a couple in his vault. Lives alone, nearing old age,"Hoseok explains.
"Okay."
"Leaving in two nights, before morning. Wizard gives us arsenal."
"Cool."
"You in?"
"If you can afford me, yes." He starts stretching, the way his back archs reminding you of a cat waking up from a nap.
"That is what I'll take care of,"you chime in, " what is it you're currently looking for?"
"I need a book, something that will make my life much easier."
"What kind?"
"Sigil magic. Advanced."
"Solomonic?"
"I was thinking of something more broad."
"Let me see what I have in my library."
He laughs, "don't give me the easily printed shit okay? I want something you would use."
You sigh.
"I'll hand copy you the grimoire I found on old Sigillism. If you can't understand it, i'll make you pay extra for every question. Are we clear?"
"Deal."
"Deal."
Yoongi gives you a rare chuckle.
He bow his head at Hoseok, "pleasure meeting you. I'll meet you at the east door after tomorrow."
"Sure."
Yoongi leaves by the backdoor, without another word.
"Damn, where did you find this one?"Hoseok turns towards you.
"To be honest, he found me. Popped up one evening looking suspicious as fuck. It took him two weeks and a drinking contest after hours to finally admit he used to be in the Queen's Guard and was looking for a spot to lay low and find jobs. I told him, he could stay on my turf as long as he shares what he knows."
Hoseok hums, finishing his last drink of the night.
"I see. He's good at reading people too, isn't he?"
You nod.
"He sees stuff during the rush I don't have time to pay attention to. Helps weed out the nosy."
"Do you like him?" The question takes you by surprise, your eyebrows jump out.
"He- He looks like good company. Never spoke much though." Your answer does not satisfy the curiosity written all over his face.
"That's not what I asked though."
"Hey, I'm the information broker here."
"How much do I need to pay to get my answer?" You can't miss the obvious interest in his face, and you're really glad the wind spell in still active.
"More than you can afford," you grab his glass and head to the bar to avoid him, picking up the glassware left around as you do.
He giggles behind you, picking up what you can't hold with your two hands.
"C'mon, Wiz. Can't be that high. Unless there's a fee on intimate business?"
"There is most definitely a fee on nosy thiefs who break into my office on the regular."
He laughs, the full, chest-open laugh he does when he doesn't have to perform charm.
"Tell me. Your price is mine."
"Do my dishes faster than I do and I'll think about it." He laughs even harder. He grabs your waist,fingers stable and delicate on your sides, passing behind you in the tight space.
He doesn't have to. You know he technically could go behind you without touching you, and usually you would call him out on it. But you missed him, and you missed having a warm body next to you, and- and something deep in your guts warms when you feel his laugh tingle your back.
Even your spell can't stop your face from getting warm this time, so you distract yourself. You go find the broom, and the mop, and the rag and you start cleaning the tables and the floors as if your entire vascular system isn't currently betraying you.
By the time you're done being able to pretend, you turn around only to catch Hoseok suddenly looking up, almost embarassed.
"So how did the dishes go?"
He looks at you again,"been done for a good ten minutes now. Can I have my answer now?"
"No. You were slower than me."
"WHAT? Lies."
You huff. " If I took this long to get dishes done, I'd go broke. Couldn't serve my clients."
"You're playing me," he crosses half the room, closer to you.
"Not at all."
"Yes you are, for some reason you don't want me to know."
"I have no idea why you'd think that."
His entire demeanor shifts. He goes from the funny, sunshine, playful persona to something darker, deeper, almost predator-like.
"Yes, you do, Wizard." He takes a step towards you, slowly, like a cat approaching a bird.
"Do you think I'd notice the entire world but you?"
Your heart suddenly hammers in your chest, your throat dries up.
He takes another step. He's only one stride away from you now.
"Wizard," he tuts, "don't you know by now, that a thief always knows when a lock is latched?"
You don't like the way his voice went lower. You don't like the way you have to focus to make sure your hands don't shake. You don't like the way you know he's using all his techniques to pick at the lock at your heart, and you don't like how he's so close to breaking in.
"Don't you think it's tempting," he takes one slow step closer, and grabs at your waist again, "for me to sneak my way in?".
You blink for a second, to gather your mind.
Your senses feel like they're fired to a 100. You can smell him, grass and something sweet and fruity. You can smell the alchohol on him,and feel his breath against your face. You can feel the way his hands grip at your waist as if he's thinking about the best way to unravel you open. And you're trying to convince yourself, you're trying to convince yourself that he's only playing, that you can still hide how your heartrate speeds, that your hands aren't begging to go around him right this instant.
When you open your eyes, you're met with honesty you didn't expect. With Hoseok carefully looking at every micro-expression on your face, every muscle twitch on your body, at the way your chest rises and falls when you breathe hard. With a gentleness in the way he's waiting for your body to answer, even if your mind can't.
"Wizard, tell me."
You hum, barely keeping yourself together.
"If you don't want this, you have to tell me."
"I-", nothing comes out but a broken sound.
"Darling…" his left hand goes up to the sensitive spot right under your ear, the tip of his finger barely touching the skin, and the finger goes slowly down and down, it brushing your exposed collarbone, then heads towards the open buttons of your shirt, before fiddling with the first closed one.
Your hair rises against your skin, and you gasp, grabbing onto his shirt and holding him close.
"Darling?"You don't answer.
You can't. Not now that you know that he knows that you know. Not now that your heart is about to break open, and he's treating it as if it's business as usual, when for you it's years of keeping your heart safe that are about to go in flames, and that there is nothing you can do anymore to hide it.
You want to say something. You want to say how badly you want this, yet how scared you feel. You want to say that you need time, that you can't take him wrecking you open only to leave on another reckless heist, and that you can't risk verything you built just to accompanying him on. You want to push him away and yell at him and grab him by the collar and have him right here on the bar.
But all those words and those messy feelings get stuck in your throat, so you swallow back a sob you hope he doesn't hear.
Because you don't want him to know how deep within he actually broke in.
Yet, still he gets it.
He sees you.
And his hands moves from your waist to your back, and your arms snake around his chest, and he holds you close to him without saying anything.
You can feel his heartbeat thrums on his neck, where your nose is, you can smell the grass and the fruits off of him. The way his breath turned deep, relaxed against your own chest, the way his lips caress the top of your head, it all feels safe, like when the two of you were young vagabonds looking to make a living, sleeping wherever you can afford to, and protecting each other whenever it was necessary.
Not like the way it feels when his eyes sees desires in you you haven't admitted to yourself yet.
He waits until your breathing slows, and you relax in his arms. Yet, he doesn't say a single thing, only pulls away from you to look at your face.
"I'm okay. Thank you."
It's quiet when he walks with to your office. It's quiet when he finishes closing up while you count your cash of the day. It's quiet when you leave the bar and head home, and you see his shadow follow you to make sure you get there safely.
It's quiet, and cold, in your bed, when you realize your fears maybe messed it all up.
You almost expect him there next morning.
Hoseok isn't the type to push when you're not feeling well, but he's also not the type to give you space without checking when he knows something is wrong.
Your day is filled with small mistakes.
Wrong orders, discussions only half-listened to, miscounted coins.
At some point, you even wrote down the wrong sigil on an argile tablet. It wouldn't have failed the spell per se, but it would have been an expensive mistake on a medallion or a dragon claw.
You focus extra hard on your magic today, making sure Hoseok and Yoongi's magical items will be ready for the early morning. But your night was short, and filled with anxieties and regrets.
You know you let the fear get the best out of you. But it's hard, isn't it? Letting yourself be desired, be loved, be wanted without trying for it? Without trading, or overanalyzing, or having to offer anything?
You don't doubt Hoseok either. He may be a bandit and a charmer, he doesn't play with people for fun, and out of all the people he has loyalty to, you maybe be the top of the list.
Your heart and your body know he can be trusted. It's your brain, that feral demon, who would rather think about any other option than him actually wanting you closer.
The day goes by, and he doesn't show up, and neither does Yoongi. So when the last customer leaves, you take extra time on the back, preparing extra stuff for their journey, before heading for your typical meeting spot.
You got at the fountain early.
The night covers the streets like a heavy coat. The air is fresh for a summer night, the sky is cloudless, the wind gentle. In theory, it should be an easy journey for them.
You didn't take the time to sleep. Your employee will take the morning shift so you can rest. Dark Moon usually means quiet night anyway.
Hair rises on your skin before you hear him sneak behind you.
"Hey, it's me." He whispers.
You turn around to greet him.
He looks softer, his smile gentle, his eyes checking the details of your face.
You smile at him, open, honest. "Hi." You can see how his shoulders relax at your reaction.
"So what do you got for me, Wiz?"
You unload your bag from your shoulders before opening it, his eyes run over the different objects.
"The fabric bag is a cloaking spell. As you long as you have it near you, he won't be able to magically see you. It's going to protect you on the way there and on your way back, in the case of retaliation. This is the protection medalion, classic. The oil is for blessing your tools, anoint them at midpoint on the road, it should be enough for luck. The gift of the gab candy is here, emergency use only. The small flask is dark moon water, use it on your head and hands, and on Yoongi. It's extra shielding. If you can, don't do the heist on the full moon, it will be less effective."
"And what is this?"
Hoseok point to a padded side pocket in the inside of the bag.
You delicately open it, revealing a piece of green seaglass that reflects the rainbow.
"Enchanted seaglass. I twinned it to mine at the tavern. If you need help, magic, anything, call me. Yoongi is a good practioner, so you might not even need it,but- you never know."
You see his face going through different emotions: confusion, curiosity, understanding, wonder.
In fact, he looks at you with so much wonder in his eyes, you feel like you might have turned into a star in the sky.
"I didn't know calling you was going to become a possibility again. I'm starting to think you like me or something."
"Well, don't get used to it. I can't go around getting you out of trouble for another decade."
He laughs, the real one- again.
"Wiz."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For everything."
You blink once, then smile.
"You still owe me a third of your weight in magic coins, Bandit."
"You got it, Wiz." He chuckles.
You dont know if it's the fatigue, the magic, or his smile. Maybe it's because even the moon is hiding away tonight, and he's running into danger with full trust in your magical arms, and he looks so handome by starlight.
So you make your lips tingle with magic, and lean into him for a kiss.
You feel his surprise on your mouth, but then he moves back, and you swear it feels bigger than just magic in your chest tonight.
Lips dancing against lips, his hands grabbing at your waist, the warmth of his body slowly spreading to yours. When you pull away, you feel dizzy, and he looks dazed.
But day doesn't wait, so you pull away to look at him.
"Good luck kiss." His dopey grin only grows bigger.
"Come back to me alive, Bandit," you kiss him again, "and unharmed."
"I didnt feel the magic in this one."
"Yes, this one was just for me."
He kisses you back.
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