#(if you tag this as ship im legally allowed to eat your hand)

[fiddler-unroofed]

{in which nott sees a mirror.}

warnings for self loathing, sort of dissociation (i didn't have it in mind while writing but i figure it could come across in that way) self-aimed and accidentally inflicted violence, and a pretty graphic description of the wound caused from that aforementioned violence

///

The mirror is cracked.

Nott doesn't mind. If anything, she prefers it. That thin scar trailing down the middle is an excuse not to stare at it directly, a barrier between her eyes and the eyes of the creature behind it. It's damaged goods, is what it is. And Nott doesn't waste her time with things like that.

Instead, she looks at the mirror's outline. Its frame. It appears to be golden, although Nott isn't sure if it's genuine or not. She debates licking it to find out (gold always has a certain tinge to it, quite tasty in small amounts but bad if overdone) but figures that might be too obvious. And besides, Caleb is already so busy distracting the shopkeeper for her-- she doesn't want to put any additional stress on him to come up with an excuse for why his little halfling friend is putting her tongue on the products.

The man already seems suspicious as to what kind of halfling she is. After all, what kind of halfling wraps herself up in bandages and robes instead of walking freely? What kind of halfling speaks with that traitorous lilt to her words that only creatures of the night have? What kind of halfling's lips don't move in tune with the words she speaks?

She reaches out and slowly feels the frame. It's surprisingly warm. Like many hands have touched it before, some all too recently-- one look at the price tag and she can see why. Then again, it's a lovely mirror, she supposes. Despite the thin, spider-like crack. She makes the mistake of glancing over at it, no particular reason in mind, and glances back hurriedly again as her eyes meet the startling yellow ones of the creature in the mirror.

She wonders if she can get Caleb to put a charm on her eyes. Change their color. She's always been fond of light blue.

"Nott, how is the window shopping going?"

Nott nearly jumps two feet in the air. "Oh, uh, uhh--" Steeling her voice to stay light and pleasant, she squeaks out, "Lovely, Caleb!"

Even from here, she can hear his sigh and begrudging return to whatever trivial conversation he's having with the shopkeeper as the real meaning behind her words sinks in. It's going okay, currently thinking about what to steal. Distract him a bit longer, won't you? Thanks!

A twinge of guilt twists through her, and she bites her lip. Not hard. Not purposely hard, anyway. But there's a sharp pain as the familiar taste of pennies fills her mouth anyway.

Her teeth are too sharp. How many times is it she's wanted to laugh with complete abandonment? Kiss Caleb on the forehead as he lies asleep? She couldn't bear it if she hurt him.

Swallowing roughly, she goes to look away, find something else (something smaller, easier, cheaper) to steal, but finds that her eyes are still locked on that stupid golden mirror's frame instead. What is it that's keeping her from moving on to a new aisle? This is nothing special. It's just a mirror. Probably not even real gold.

Reaching over on whim, she goes to move the mirror so it faces elsewhere, tries to snap herself out of this sudden trance she's snapped herself into, but then her fingers falter and the mirror slips and she takes a step back and--

She's facing it. Her. The creature.

She's facing it head-on, and it's too late to look away. She's already taking it all in, soaking up what she sees like a sponge soaking up water. Except the water is acid and the acid is burning her, burning her inside and out.

Oh.

So this is what she's looked like for the last few months. Years. Forever.

Nott's caught glimpses of this face before, in windows and puddles and yes, even a few mirrors before, but never like this. Never so confrontationally. Never in such a large and clean and fancy mirror. Never on purpose. Even though the purposefulness of this situation could be called into question as well.

Its eyes-- her eyes, are the color of melting butter and liquid gold. They are the eyes of a cat, blinking slowly in disgusted bewilderment before widening threefold as understanding sets in. They're pretty, Nott supposes absently, or as pretty as eyes like that can get, but their pupils are nothing more than two violent slashes in their midsts. As thin and offputting as the crack in the mirror that tears the creature in two.

Its skin-- her skin, why won't this sink in-- is a sickly, mottled green. Not dark like Fjord's, but not light like an elf or wood spirit's either. It's kind of like the shade seasick people turn when on a long trip overseas, or that Caleb might sport after eating one of Jester's long expired treats. The shade associated with revulsion and disgust. How appropriate. On the arms, slim white scars bare the signs of struggles their owner has faced, enemies it, she, has opposed. Hatred she's allowed herself to be the brunt of, if by her own hand.

The mask thankfully hides what Nott already knows to be a mess of abnormally jagged teeth jutting out from a too-large bloodstained mouth, but she can still spot specks of green from where it's been chipped and nicked by the forces of time. Cracks in an otherwise perfect foundation.

She reaches up, as if in a dream, to touch the pretty porcelain lips. The creature in the mirror does the same.

"Nott," Caleb calls again, (distantly, she thinks, as if they're in completely different worlds instead of only a few steps apart,) "are you done?"

This time, she doesn't answer.

The red lips feel cold against her thumb. Cold, but beautiful. Everything is in its resolute, porcelain place. Nott licks her own lips. They feel chapped. The taste of pennies still lingers on her tongue.

She stares some more at the cracked figure across from her. The cracked figure that she's expected to believe reflects her. The cracked figure that shows her, in broad daylight, all the things people hate about her. The cracked figure that she's worked so hard to try and escape, but for nothing.

All she has to prove for her efforts are a pair of too large robes, and a pretty mask showing a future that will never be hers.

Nott thinks about this for a moment.

And then she reels back, and punches the mirror straight in the fucking center.

"AH-- FUCK!!"

Caleb instantly whips around. At the sound of shattered glass, the shopkeeper is quick to follow.

Nott staggers back, instantly jolted out of whatever trance she was in earlier as her fist flares up with pain. Not the usual type, either. This kind of pain is red-hot and angry, coiling through her hand and arm like a snake looking for a vein to bite. She yelps (screams, rather,) and realizes all too late that the shopkeeper is screaming as well.

"My mirror!" he wails. "My beautiful, beautiful mirror! What have you done, you green little beast?!"

Nott goes to choke out an answer, even just a "I dunno", but the words die on her lips as a scream makes its way there first. Caleb is already rushing over, a look of shock on his face as he scoops her up, away from the broken glass, and examines her hand wordlessly.

"What happened here?" he asks quietly, urgently, and even over the shopkeeper's wails he manages to make himself perfectly heard in her ears. "Nott, are you okay? No, do not look at that. Look at me. Are you okay?"

Nott ignores him and instantly looks at her hand.

On one hand, it's not as bad as she'd thought. On the other, it's worse. Bits of glass are embedded in her skin like stars, all sorts of shapes and sizes, and blood trickles from the wound steadily. Caleb's eyes sweep it up and down worriedly before mumbling a Zemnian oath under his breath.

"I'm... Jester can patch me up, right?" Nott asks feebly. Hopefully. Each word feels like a rock in her throat.

"Perhaps," Caleb says. He doesn't ask her what happened again.

"Excuse me," the shopkeeper blusters, hurrying over and pushing both of them aside to try and survey the damage, "but you'll have to reimburse me for this! This mirror was worth its weight in gold! It had over twenty three callers for it!"

"Getting my little friend the help she needs is a little more of a priority right now," Caleb says softly, and Nott feels another twinge of guilt, "but I assure you we will be back to pay for the damage we've caused."

"It was already cracked," Nott offers. "Your mirror, I mean."

The shopkeeper's face turns purple, and he looks like Nott bleeding out is far from a problem to him right now. "Oh, was it now? Tell me, will that excuse hold up in court?"

"There is no need to get the authorities involved," Caleb interjects, shooting Nott a Look. She shrinks back and tries not to think about the fire coursing through her bones. "We broke it. We will pay for it."

The shopkeeper sniffs. "You're lucky I'm not calling the Crown's Guard on both of you."

"Yes. Thank you. You are really very kind."

"That'll be two hundred gold. Doubled 'cause of damages."

Caleb's breath hitches a bit, and Nott winces. Neither of them have that kind of money. None of the party does. Guilt fastens itself around her heart, so heavy she can almost ignore the pure anguish in her hand.

"Ah," Caleb says, and Nott knows that tone. It's the 'time for plan B' tone he uses when he knows that they're both screwed. "That is fine. That is very fine. Will you allow me to go and get help for my little friend first? She has a rare condition, you see, and if she does not get help in the next ten minutes her blood will certainly--”

"I don't care," the shopkeeper spits. "I just want my gold."

"That is very kind of you." Caleb is already half-way out the door, dragging her behind him as gently as he can by her uninjured hand. Nott already knows that the minute he steps out fully, he has no intention of ever returning. "We will be right back."

"Yeah," Nott squeaks. "Definitely! Coming back is exactly what we're gonna do now! Sorry about your mirror!"

The shopkeeper, thankfully, doesn't acknowledge her. He's gone to the back of the store. Probably to look for a broom or something to clean the remnants of what would have otherwise brought him a fortune.

Nott spares a final glance at it all even as she's being pulled away. The perfect golden frame is not nearly as perfect anymore. If anything it just looks out of place, surrounding jagged bloody shards that look almost like teeth. Her teeth. The teeth that it couldn't show her before, now splayed out after ruin. What a fucking irony.

Caleb's hand tightens in hers as he pulls her down the street. She already knows what will come next. He'll stop her at a corner, try a small charm on her, wrap the wound up with a piece of cloth and then bustle her over to Jester who'll take care of the rest, hopefully. The matter of why she lashed out and ruined their stay in town will be swept under the rug. He'll allow her motives to be left forgotten.

And she loves him for it.

"Do not do something like that again, okay?" he whispers.

She nods. Ever the promise breaker. "I won't, I swear. I don't know what came over me, Caleb. I'm sorry."

He squeezes her hand again, satisfied. But even through his warmth, and the concern and affection radiating off him in waves, Nott can't help but think of those cold, perfect ruby red lips she saw in the mirror.

That tantalizing snippet from a life she'll never have.

No, she thinks fiercely. Her fist burns in agreement. I will have it. I will.

And she squeezes Caleb's hand back.

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Additional Warnings: Video footage of torture, graphic physical violence, captured/kidnapping

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,778

Tag List: @prisczero​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali​, @shrimpmsg​​,

AN: It’s about to get dark, dark, and even darker still. I just want to remind everyone that I love you all for coming on this journey with me. Thank you for loving this story and remember that you are loved.

Chapter 49: Danger

“You’re in danger right now, why are you testing me? Why are you testing me? Stop confusing me.“

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Three Days Later Seoul – Hannam; Yongsan District South Korea

Hoseok took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaned back in the plush leather chair. Soft music played from the stereo in the corner of the room; a semi-vain attempt at quieting his thoughts. They were pervasive, loud, and extremely unwelcome these days. Namjoon insisted he take the day off, reassuring Hoseok that both he and Yoongi could handle things while he was away from the office. He wasn’t one to be fussed over, but even he had to admit that the mounting stress from the last few months was finally beginning to take a toll on him.

It was quiet. Too quiet. This disturbed him on various levels in ways that he couldn’t possibly describe. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried. He had. Hoseok tried time and again to empty his feelings at Seokjin and Namjoon’s feet. But it always fell short; something felt incomplete about his trepidation.

There shouldn’t have been a reason, however. Hoseok knew this. He’d made his stance very clear with Changkyun the last time they crossed paths with one another. He would not be part of the little games he was attempting to play, and he wouldn’t be coerced into walking back into darkness. None of them would.

Too much was at stake now. They were all slowly building something with their own hands; something that was of some semblance of clean. Happiness fluttered around his brothers like butterflies and he enjoyed that they were able to indulge in the little things in life for a change; things they often took for granted when they were living in the countryside.

Anastasia was pregnant, her belly swollen with the life that she was nurturing. Seokjin babied and pampered her and the others were getting used to the idea that they were all going to be uncles. When the topic of marriage was brought up, Seokjin merely smiled. He said nothing else on the matter and they didn’t push. It was clear that he would do things at his own pace.

Raelyn, too, was pregnant. Truth be told, it stung Hoseok in a way that he wouldn’t dare admit aloud. Taehyung loved her and it was clear she cared for him as well. Who was he to get in the way of that happiness, regardless of his own lingering attachments? It wasn’t fair. He wouldn’t be unfair. She was only a month behind Anastasia and Taehyung made a point to notify everyone that Raelyn was forever spoken for. No one mentioned marriage at all since Taehyung had plans of his own.

Jungkook and Eden were now living together. He remembered the look on his youngest brother’s face when he closed on the house, notifying the others that he would be moving out of their home in UN Village. The others protested at first. They didn’t think it was necessary for Jungkook to move out when Eden could have easily moved into their home instead. They had plenty of room and privacy. But after a conversation Hoseok had with Jimin and Jungkook both, he realized that it was the better option. He didn’t want to pour salt into any wounds. Especially not Yoongi’s.

It came as a surprise, at first, when he’d heard about Yoongi’s relationship with Eden prior. None of the others poked or investigated their brother, believing that he was going off to be with someone he cared about after being dragged through the dirt in the underground. While he knew that Yoongi’s loyalty was absolute and he cared deeply for his brothers, sometimes even The Lightning Claw yearned for an escape from the shadows that clung to their ankles persistently.

As he leaned back in the chair, he pressed his forearm against his temple while his other hand rested along his stomach. Dark eyes idly stared at the ceiling, looking at nothing in particular. His heart beat softly against his chest and he drummed his fingers along in time with the sound. He hummed a tune to himself, closing his eyes as he took a moment to think about everything they’d gone through to reach this point. It was a long journey – seemingly endless. Ten years flashed by so quickly that Hoseok often questioned if it was a dream they were all sharing; one where they hadn’t been able to wake up from yet.

So much fighting, stealing, and climbing over horrifyingly large mountains. Their knuckles burned white and their fingernails bled from how hard they were holding on to both themselves and their goals. Reaching the peak of the mountain, gazing over the horizon – over their kingdom – Hoseok could claim that it was something they could look back on with a mild feeling of fondness.

He couldn’t help but wonder if things would be different had they all decided to remain in their hometown.

Letting his arm fall against the armrest of the chair, he scoffed and shook his head. What’s the point of worrying about that now?

They all decided things together. They agreed to uproot themselves and walked hand-in-hand into the pits of Hell. Hadn’t everything they’d accomplished to this point, means be damned, been the result they wanted? It was all so they could have a better life at the cost of their innocence.

Im Changkyun had been right about one thing. Sacrifices had to be made. They had to be willing to make them.

The soft chime of the doorbell rang throughout the house. Hoseok sat up, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Looking at the video phone, he picked it up as the person near the front gate lifted his face toward the camera. The young man wore a uniform, presumably a delivery service. He had a small package in his arms. He waved to the camera and Hoseok felt his brows furrow. He wasn’t expecting a delivery.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh, yes Sir? I have a delivery for Jung Hoseok?”

“Who’s it from?”

“There’s no return address, Sir.”

He sighed. “Just leave it.”

“It’s requiring that someone sign for it, Sir.”

Something uncomfortable settled in the pit of Hoseok’s gut. He could have just told the delivery boy to go away and have the package returned to the shipping company. It wasn’t like he’d be punished for it and Hoseok was certain he hadn’t ordered a parcel. If anything, this was a potential headache in the making and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with it.

“Uh, Sir? Are you there?”

Hoseok pressed two fingers to his forehead and groaned. “Fine, I’ll be right out. Stay there.”

Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he exited his office and headed toward the front door. Sliding into a pair of sneakers, he grabbed his wallet and slid it into the back pocket of his slacks. The security lock beeped behind him as the door closed and he slowly trudged down the winding path of the front garden toward the front gate. He entered the passcode and pulled the gate open slowly, his back rigid as he prepared to brace himself for anything that might have attempted to catch him off guard.

The young man smiled, holding out the small parcel toward Hoseok. He took it, cradling it under one arm, while he signed the tablet with the stylus. The delivery man checked his signature, bowed, and bid him a wonderful rest of his afternoon. Hoseok merely nodded, closing the gate and began heading back toward the house when the security lock beeped again.

Mindlessly inputting the passcode, he entered the house while examining the package. It was a simple white box with red and blue accents around it – presumably the logo and color scheme of the shipping company. It was no longer than a standard envelope and as thick as two decks of cards. His name was on the front but like the delivery man stated, there was no return address.

For the sake of argument, Hoseok shook the box and heard the soft rattling sound of something hitting the inside along all four corners. Whatever was inside was small and light. He tossed the box up and down, confirming much of the weight was from what was concealed in the box. Opening the flaps from one end, he held the box at an angle and a small USB thumb drive fell into his palm. There was nothing about it that stood out; just a simple red and black thumb drive with the manufacturer’s logo on it. He shook the box again but nothing else was inside.

Tossing the box into the nearby waste bin, Hoseok entered his office and closed the door behind him. His legs moved toward his desk and he flopped into his chair. Pulling up a virus scanner on his computer, he made sure it was ready and waiting before sliding the thumb drive into one of the USB ports. Two minutes went by and the virus scanner confirmed there was nothing malicious on the drive, deeming it safe to open.

Clicking on the icon for the drive, there was a folder with his name on it. He opened it and saw three files inside: two video clips and a text document. There was nothing urgent on the text file’s label. It merely read For Hoseok. The video clips, however, had two different dates on them: three days ago and today, followed by the numbers 1 and 2.

He clicked on the first video.

The picture was dark, showing that whatever room the video was being filmed in had poor lighting. He could make out a couple of silhouettes, but there weren’t any distinctive features that could help him discern who the figures belonged to. About ten seconds into the video, a light clicked on – illuminating one of the people in the video.

It didn’t take him long to recognize who it was and the moment he did, Hoseok thought his guts had fallen out of his body.

In the video, there was a woman sitting in a chair. She was tied up with what looked like a combination of regular ropes and large chains. Her mouth was gagged with a bright red cloth and her head hung forward, the light over her head shadowing the rest of her face. The intensity of the light hanging over her made it only slightly difficult to discern her skin color, but her dark curls that fell around her neck and across her shoulders was unmistakable. Something dangled from her neck – he could only assume it was a necklace of some kind.

But he still couldn’t see her face.

“No,” he whispered while shaking his head. He could feel a cold sweat forming on his brow. “There’s no way that’s…”

All the moisture left his mouth in mid-denial. A masked man grabbed a handful of the woman’s curls, yanking her head back. A muffled yell of outrage pushed from her chest, lost against the bright red fabric pressed over her mouth. Her face was fully illuminated in the light and even Hoseok could no longer deny who was sitting in that chair.

It was Eden.

The video was only ninety seconds long and it abruptly ended with a hand holding up two fingers in front of the camera lens. The person in the video was telling him to click on the second video file.

He clicked on the other video file labeled with today’s date.

It was the same nondescript room and Eden was still sitting in the chair. A trail of blood seeped from her temple and her shirt was torn open from the neck to her stomach, exposing her bra and skin. The necklace continued to hang from her neck and he could see there was a ring looped through the chain. It appeared that her shoulder was injured, the denim jacket stained a darker shade of blue on just her right shoulder. A large cut decorated her thigh and he could see where the blood blossomed across her jeans – staining her entire upper leg red.

Eden looked like she was fading in and out of consciousness. Suddenly, water was splashed over her face and chest, jolting her awake and it appeared that she was attempting to focus on her current predicament. When it seemed like the answer was dawning on her features, Eden raged through the bandana over her mouth, her body rocking back and forth viciously to break free from her restraints. One of the men backhanded her hard and she went limp, her head rolling forward.

Hoseok saw the blood leaking from beneath the gag.

The video ended.

Horror and fury tore through Hoseok’s entire body, threatening to rip him asunder. His shoulders vibrated from his anger and his vision blurred from the onset of furious tears. Getting his hands to steady over the mouse was a task in and of itself. When he managed to finally tether it down to move it, he clicked on the text file with his name on it.

It felt like the ground opened beneath him and swallowed him whole.

Hoseok Hyung,

I have to say, I’m impressed. Truly. I can’t find a single weak point in your defenses. But that shouldn’t come as a surprise, should it? You’ve always been so careful; always fully aware of your surroundings. The others are the same; a habit they’ve picked up from you, perhaps?

It’s a shame that same skill wasn’t embroiled in your women.

Not that it’s their fault. When you believe that you’re safe, what reason do you need to keep your guard up? Blissful ignorance does that to a person. Believing you’ve won makes you sloppy.

Your brothers have become sloppy, Hyung.

As interesting as it would have been to go after the women carrying your brothers’ children, I’m not a monster. Besides, Eden is the strongest of them and breaking her will only prove my point further.

That you’ve all grown weak in the light.

Hyung, this is my final offer. Stop letting the light blind you. Stop letting those weak dreams and ambitions dictate the rest of your lives. You can’t protect the things you love when you don’t have the power to stop anyone who would try to take it from you. You had that power and you threw it away.

And for what?

For love? Success? So you can lay in your graves, close your eyes, and think you’ll greet the Reaper with a nice clean conscience? Don’t be ridiculous.

Let’s see how long it takes you to find her. You already know asking for the police won’t do you any good. We have the Chief in our back pocket; we have for years.

By the time you read this, the boys and I will be out of the country on a business trip. Tracking us down will just be a waste of time. Both yours and hers. Every minute counts and the longer you take to find her, the more she’s going to suffer because of your inability to act.

The clock is ticking, Hyung.

And the game is still on.

Good luck.

Im Changkyun

For a moment, all Hoseok could do was stare at the words on the screen. He couldn’t breathe. He could barely think.

Then he saw red.

Hoseok jumped from his chair, grabbed the monitor, and hurled it across the room. The sound that ripped through him was beyond anything a human being should have been capable of making. Glass shattered as it crashed into the wall, breaking into numerous pieces. He picked up the keyboard and began to smash it across his desk, breaking the glass top as the keys popped off and scattered across the floor. Even when the keyboard was split in half, he continued to pummel his desk – creating more spider vein cracks along the surface.

And then he blacked out.

Hoseok didn’t know how long he was out. What brought him out of the darkness was the sound of Namjoon’s voice, as well as his body moving back and forth. Slowly, Hoseok’s eyes opened and he saw his friend looking down at him with extreme concern.

“Hoseok-ah!” Again, Namjoon shook him. “Are you alright? Hey, come on!”

His vision blurred in and out of focus, his head spinning, and he reached out blindly to grab onto Namjoon’s shoulder. “N-Namjoon-ah,” he croaked, realizing how raw his voice sounded, “the boys. C-Call the boys.”

Namjoon frowned, not sure what he was trying to tell him. Hoseok growled in frustration.

“GET EVERYONE HOME RIGHT NOW, GODDAMMIT!”