Make It Right [BTS Mafia AU]

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

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 50 51 52 53 54 55

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

Word Count: 3,239

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

AN: I need to quit fooling you people. Because the trust issues are going to get worse. Maybe this is a silver lining? Maybe? Yes? ...I’ll go away now.

Chapter 55: Sea

“Praying that we’ll remain in this desert till the end. Praying that this isn’t truly our reality.”

© 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.

Two Days Later Jeju Island – Seogwipo South Korea

When Taehyung first came to, he felt warmth blanketing his entire body. Every so often, a gentle brush of cool air passed over him. His limbs ached and it felt like a stone was being pressed against his chest. Breathing was a seemingly impossible task. When he could breathe, the sensation of phantom glass fragments scraped along the insides of his lungs. Coughing was a regular occurrence. Through said coughing fit was how he was able to pull himself back to consciousness.

For a moment, he believed he had, in fact, died. There was a part of him that even accepted it. But he wouldn’t have accepted it with a smile, of that he was most certain.

There were people waiting for him; people he would potentially be leaving behind.

The faces of his brothers and of the woman he loved yanked him from the abyss.

An old man sat next to him, moving a fan slowly over his body. Sweat seemed to cover him from head to toe and there was a large basin of ice beside him. Again, Taehyung coughed and tried to sit up. But the old man placed a hand on his shoulder, gently urging him to lie back down on the futon. What energy he managed to muster quickly slithered out of him, the weight of exhaustion overwhelming him all over again.

Had he actually died?

“Don’t make such a fuss,” said the old man.

The stranger’s skin was bronze from being out in the sun, his worn and wrinkled hands and face gave testimony to the life he lived. His hair was a salt and pepper gray, frazzled from being whipped around in the ocean breeze just outside. Despite his seemingly austere appearance and gruff tone, his dark eyes were gentle as he continued to move the fan back and forth over Taehyung’s prone form.

Taehyung squinted slowly, the light peeling in from the window almost blinding him. He tried to lift his arm to shield his eyes, but found it more difficult than he’d anticipated. Sensing his distress, the old man shifted so his small frame could block as much of the light as he could.

“Where am I?”

The question croaked from Taehyung’s throat, surprising him. Attempting to swallow, he mentally reeled at how terrible he sounded.

He heard the man scoff, a sympathetic smirk pulling at his thin lips. “My home,” he replied simply, resting the fan on his knee, “you’ve got the devil’s luck, young man.”

Taehyung tried to smile but realized it probably looked like a grimace. “You don’t know the half of it, Oroshin.”

He watched the man’s smile widen a measure. “You’re young, but I see you still have some manners.”

Again, he attempted to sit up and failed. The old man seemed to take pity on him, reaching out with his thin arms to help him. When he was up, Taehyung winced at the tight feeling around his chest. He rubbed at it gingerly as the elder pressed a cold compress to his temple. Willing himself not to shrink back at the sudden cold, his eyes wandered around the abode to serve as a distraction.

He could tell that it was the home of a local fisherman. Quaint, humble and quiet; save for the crashing of waves along what he could only assume was the beach nearby. The salt was prevalent in the air, seeping in through what cracks existed in the house. Even though he could feel the cold wind, the floor was warm beneath him.

“Did you save me?”

Dipping the cloth into the ice water, he wrung it out and pressed it back to Taehyung’s head. “The gods saved you, my boy. You were already washed up on the shore when I stumbled across you.” He watched his eyes shifting to his shoulder and Taehyung reached up to touch the dressings over his injury. “I managed to purge the toxins out of you.”

His eyes narrowed. So it was poison, he thought angrily, shifting his gaze to the space between his knees, Lee Jooheon, you son of a bitch…

Taehyung lifted his eyes to meet the old man’s. “How long have I been out?”

“Couple of days now. The worst of it passed yesterday.”

Even though he still ached all over, Taehyung quickly shifted to sit on his knees, bowing his head low to the old man. “I’m in your debt, Oroshin.”

“Nonsense. It’s human nature to help those in need.”

Taehyung raised his head. “It’s a cruel world we live in now. Your kindness is rare in it.”

“Your view of the world is too narrow, my boy.” The old man lifted the fan and smacked Taehyung’s wrist with it. “Now enough of this. Sit comfortably.”

He did as he was told, sitting with his legs crossed in a more comfortable position. “Oroshin, I hate to burden you further, but would you mind taking me into town? I need to get back to Seoul as soon as possible.”

For an uncomfortably long moment, the old man peered at Taehyung – as if gauging what his motive was. But there was only one thing on his mind. He needed to get back to his brothers and warn them of the danger that was coming. There would still be time for them to find Eden and return her to the place she belonged.

…at Jungkook’s side.

Jooheon’s words slammed through his body like a wrecking ball, causing him to visibly shudder. Taehyung couldn’t believe it now that he was lucid. How had Jungkook managed to hide such a huge secret from them all? Then again, they’d all been so busy anticipating the moves of the Jade Fangs that a lot of things could have gone amiss. Something as small as eloping could easily be overlooked.

That didn’t mean he was any less salty about it.

When I get back, he and I are gonna have a little chat…

“Well,” cut the old man’s words through his thoughts, “it’s a good thing this washed up with you then.” He reached into a nearby drawer and pulled out Taehyung’s wallet.

He bowed as he took it from him, opening to see the paper money was worthless. So were his cards. But his ID was still intact. That was the only thing that mattered. If he could prove who he was, getting money would be easy. He peered at the old man expectantly who raised his brows at him.

“I’m assuming my phone didn’t make it?” The elder shook his head and Taehyung sighed. Of course it wouldn’t have made it. That would have been the luckiest break he could get outside of being alive. “I’ll just have to buy another one.”

“Eat something and then I’ll take you to town. You can’t function on an empty stomach.”

Taehyung flashed him his best boxy smile despite the agony he continued to feel. “Thank you, Oroshin.”

After filling his stomach with three full helpings of rice, soup, and freshly caught fish, he thanked the old man profusely for his kindness. When he asked his name, the elder simply smiled and told him to come back when all his business was taken care of. Taehyung promised he would return to repay him for saving his life.

There wasn’t much time to waste. He needed to procure funds to buy a plane ticket back to Seoul. He would worry about a phone once he landed safely. Besides, Taehyung didn’t think he could handle the slew of missed calls and voicemails demanding to know of his whereabouts. He went on blind faith that everything was okay; that his brothers were able to find something out on their end since it was obvious that his own trail was a perfectly placed trap.

The flight back to Seoul was only an hour, but he felt like time crawled at an agonizingly slow pace. The time he had alone on the plane was enough to cause Taehyung to fester in his own guilt. He was angry at himself for falling for such a setup, and he was even angrier that he hadn’t seen it for what it was.

Maybe Hyungwon was right, he thought bitterly, narrowing his eyes as he stared out the window, we’ve gotten fucking soft.

But he stood by what he said. This wouldn’t have been a problem had they taken the Jade Fangs out five years ago. Sacrifices be damned. At least they could avoid the headache inducing bullshit they were suffering right now.

He replayed the scene on Dragon’s Head Cliff repeatedly. No matter how many times he thought about it, Taehyung’s conclusion was the same every single time.

…if I hadn’t dodged, whatever came at me would have hit me straight on. He frowned. They were really trying to kill me.

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. Curling his hands into fists on the arm rests, he closed his eyes – attempting to stave off an oncoming migraine.

They would be dealt with.

They would all be dealt with.

Taehyung wouldn’t rest until he made sure of it.

Seoul - Cheongdam; Gangnam District South Korea

As soon as he landed in Seoul, he purchased a phone at one of the stores in the airport, activating it on the spot. There were several voicemails and he rolled his eyes. He didn’t have time to listen to them. Now that Taehyung could confidently say he’d met the Reaper at the Gates of the Underworld and walked away, the only person he wanted to see was the woman carrying his child. He had to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming; still sleeping from the effects of the poison.

Taehyung needed just a little more reassurance that he wasn’t dead. That he wasn’t already in Hell.

Hailing a cab, he gave instructions for the driver to take him to Raelyn’s hospital. The woman was so stubborn, insistent on continuing to work as her belly continued to swell with the life in her. Taehyung told her constantly that she didn’t need to work anymore, especially while she was with child. But she was hellbent on having her way and who was he to deny her the freedom to do as she pleased?

He’d have been a fool to try.

Taehyung quickly paid the cab driver, thanking him for getting him to his destination so quickly. He raced through the parking lot, up the steps and just barely clipped his shoulders in his impatience in waiting for the sliding doors to open wide enough to give him entrance. One of Raelyn’s co-workers that he recognized spotted him, her expression forming into shock before melting to discomfort almost immediately. He skidded to a halt in front of her, blocking her path as she seemed to mentally prepare herself to flee.

“Eunsoo-ssi,” he huffed, attempting to catch his breath, “where’s Raelyn?”

She averted her eyes, shrinking back from him as he took a step toward her. Canting his head slightly, he couldn’t hide the confusion on his face. She’d never treated him like this before. In fact, he remembered her playfully doting on him like she would a younger brother. This sudden standoffishness seemed a little unwarranted.

“She…” Eunsoo paused, taking a breath, before lifting her face to meet his gaze. Her brows were furrowed harshly and he could swear that her eyes looked glassier than they had just a few seconds ago. “She’s at the funeral hall.”

Taehyung frowned. “Why?”

“I’m sorry, I have to finish my rounds.”

Eunsoo quickly bowed, side-stepping him to disappear around the corner to the next hall. His gaze followed her as he was left in the main lobby alone.

What the hell is going on? he thought as he made his way toward the elevators. Pressing the button to give him entrance, he pressed the button that led to the mortuary floor where funeral services were typically held. Did something happen to one of their co-workers?

It didn’t take him long to make it to the funeral hall. Various other families were dressed in their traditional mourning attire and rows of wreaths with white carnations lined the walls. White ribbons hung from them, traditional hangul printed on them with the names of the deceased. He barely took notice of them, his eyes frantically searching for any sign of Raelyn.

The weight of sorrow that filled the hall was palpable, making the uncomfortable feeling welling up in his chest almost unbearable. He couldn’t place his finger on it, but Taehyung swore that a dark cloud of dread was hanging over him. He quickly shook his head, attempting to chase the nagging voices from his mind.

This was crazy. He needed to get his head together.

Just as he took another step, he stopped as someone dashed out of one of the rooms. He blinked when he realized the woman dressed in a traditional white mourning garb was Jimin’s older sister. She covered her mouth, smothering a sob, and Taehyung could only blink when she paused just seconds before colliding into him. It seemed to take her a moment to recognize who he was, as it did him for her. Her face was puffy and swollen from all the crying she’d done.

“N-Noona,” Taehyung stammered out, an icy sensation slithering down his spine, “what are you doing here?”

Her bottom lip quivered uncontrollably, her hands reaching out to grasp at the sleeves of his jacket. “Oh, Taehyung-ah,” she choked out, curling her fingers into his arms, “Jimin-ie…he…he…”

Slowly, he craned his neck to peer at the three wreaths lining the walls just outside the room she’d vacated from. He read the names on each of the ribbons draped over the wreaths. Taehyung’s heart froze for half a second before slamming viciously against his chest.

“No way,” he murmured, looking back at Jimin’s sister, “…Noona.”

Instead of answering him, he watched her collapse to her knees – a wailing sound bursting from her. Taehyung heard his very soul shattering as he pivoted on his heels, his legs carrying him into the mourning chamber.

It was crowded, bodies shuffling around as people cried or whispered among themselves. Taehyung didn’t bother removing his shoes as he stepped up onto the small landing. He saw Raelyn out of the corner of his eye. She was the first one to spot him, making her way toward him. But instead of relishing in the comfort of her embrace, the very thing he had so desperately been seeking out since he’d woken up, Taehyung stepped just out of her reach. His eyes focused on the three portraits situated on the table where various foods and flowers were placed.

“Taehyung-ah.” Seokjin called to him, but his voice sounded muffled from the incessant buzzing in his ears. He heard him say his name again and he still couldn’t hear it well.

All he could focus on were the smiling faces of Jungkook, Eden, and Jimin looking back at him from the black frames encasing their visages.

As he took another step, he saw someone move to step in his path – blocking his view of the pictures. When he lifted his eyes, he was now staring into Hoseok’s stern face.

“Where have you been?”

Taehyung continued to stare at Hoseok, blinking slowly as his mind attempted to catch up. He opened his mouth to speak and found he couldn’t find the words.

“We thought you were dead.”

The phrase shook Taehyung; rattling his bones. He visibly flinched, took a breath, then glared up at his older brother.

“Hyung,” he finally managed to say, his voice dropping a full octave, “what is this?” Raising a hand, he pointed to the side of him and gave a wide flourish to the entire scene surrounding them. “What the fuck is this?”

A hand fell on his arm and he felt Raelyn’s swollen belly pressed against his side. She buried her face into the curve of his shoulder, suppressing a sob as she pulled him close. His body felt stiff, like he’d turned into a marble statue. This was all some joke. It had to be. There was no way that any of this was real.

“How?”

“The Jade Fangs were responsible,” cut in Seokjin.

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no way that—”

Yoongi sighed gently. “You told us her location, Taehyung-ah.”

It was like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his body.

“W-What?” That was impossible. He hadn’t been able to obtain that information. “I didn’t—”

“We realize that now,” added Namjoon. When Taehyung glanced at him, he nearly hiccupped at the dark expression painted over his brother’s face. “They texted us from your phone. It was all a setup from the start.”

Again, silence filled the small space around them save for the members of Jimin’s family who came, as well as friends.

“They’re gone, Taehyung-ah.”

Twisting his face to look back at Hoseok, he noticed his other brothers crowding around him in a semicircle. It wasn’t until his vision went out of focus that Taehyung realized he was now crying.

“What?” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “What do—”

Hoseok’s face softened, his brows furrowing before he closed his eyes. “They’re gone.”

The sun slowly set over Seoul’s cityscape. Lights blinked with life in succession, illuminating the darkness. Taehyung listlessly stared out over the vast expanse while standing on the hospital’s rooftop, lips puckered out while indulging on a sucker. He didn’t remember running from the mourning chamber. He didn’t remember banging his knee on the steps as he tripped over his own feet upon his ascent.

No one chased after him. They knew better. They knew he would likely implode if they did.

Taehyung didn’t stay for the cremation process. He would have thrown himself into the flames right along with them. Selfish? Of course he was. He was man enough to admit that all he could see was red.

Pulling out his phone, he crushed the candy between his teeth. Scrolling through the numerous voicemails left by Hoseok, he stopped until he saw Jimin’s name. His thumb hovered over his name, trembling, before he pressed down on the screen.

It automatically played the message on speaker mode.

“Ya, Kim Taehyung,” came Jimin’s voice from the receiver.

Taehyung’s brows furrowed, hearing the pained chuckle that followed.

“…you son of a bitch. How could you just take off for the gates of the Underworld alone? Huh?”

His grip tightened on the phone, feeling his arm shaking from the force of his hold. There was an uncomfortable stretch of silence before he heard Jimin speak again.

“Don’t even think about stirring up a bunch of shit without me. Jungkook and I will be there soon.”

Without any warning, Taehyung fell to his knees. The phone fell with a clatter beside him as his hands gripped onto the roof’s railing. His whole body shook, his silent sobs rattling through him. The tears that streamed from his face were hot and thick. He swore he could feel his own blood leaking from his eyes.

Jungkook. 

Jimin.

Eden.

They were gone. 

Mercilessly ripped away from the life they more than deserved to live.

Someone had to answer for this. 

Someone was going to answer for this.

“I’ll make them pay,” he growled, glaring at the landscape as he ground his teeth together, “I swear to your God, Jimin-ah…”

I’ll fucking kill them all.

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

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 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57

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

Word Count: 2,327

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

AN: And here we go...

Chapter 57: Boy Meets Evil

“But in order to be free from this crime, it’s impossible to forget and give up.”

© 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.

One Week Later Incheon – Sungui; Nam District South Korea

Hoseok and Seokjin stood side by side as they looked at the large, gray building in front of them. They parked their car at the end of the long road, surveying their surroundings. The morning sky was overcast and shrouded the landscape in hues of grays; desaturating everything. Autumn was already upon them and foliage that was once fully in bloom would soon begin singing their songs of lamentation as they died.

It was the season for beginnings to come to an end.

The old factory was worn from years of neglect. Rust spots were speckled over the iron and there were a few spider cracks along large windows on every side. Several other sedans were parked nearby, presumably Jade Fang members. Hoseok cast a critical eye over them, his gaze meeting Seokjin’s. They both nodded, stepping in sync as they approached the large metal double doors.

His hand went out to reach for the handle, pulling it open. The hinges screamed from abuse, crying for attention. The sound wailed through the expanse as the bottom portion of the door scraped along the concrete flooring. Seokjin followed closely as he entered, pulling the door closed behind him. The ambient noise of the city quickly transformed into that of a tomb.

Their footsteps echoed over the wide space. Hoseok took note of the many wooden crates that lined either walls, giving access to a variety of blind spots. The factory had a single floor that was one big open space. High above it, catwalks ran along the rafters all leading from the factory manager’s office: a metal cube suspended at one end of the warehouse. Abandoned shelf scaffolding broke up the empty space. Crates and pallets were strewn around, making decent hiding places.

He frowned when a few of Changkyun’s underlings looked at him suspiciously – each of them armed with bats, pipes, and knives. Sliding his hand into his pocket, he smirked while shaking his head. It was obvious that Changkyun didn’t trust him and that was fine. After the damage he’d caused, Hoseok couldn’t blame him for taking precautions against him.

Even if this was supposed to be a general meeting.

“Jin Hyung,” a voice called to them, causing both men to halt in their steps.

They looked over to the right where another portion of the factory broke off, seeing Wonho reveal himself. He flicked his tongue out over his lip ring, grinning like a man who’d just won a high stakes poker game. Hoseok slowly blinked as Seokjin situated himself to his right.

Wonho stopped just a few feet short from them. “I didn’t expect you to be here. I figured it would be Namjoon-ah like usual.”

Seokjin shrugged. “Yeah well, we’ve decided not to be so predictable.”

They watched him peer around them, as though he was expecting more people. “The others?”

“None of your business. Besides, he asked to meet me, did he not?”

Hoseok flicked some of his hair out of his eyes, watching the smirk on Wonho’s face grow a little more. There was a small flame of anger that continued to burn in his chest. But he didn’t say anything. He waited for Wonho to look at him, bowing his head in respect, before giving a gentle sigh.

“Where’s Changkyun-ah?”

Without breaking their gaze, Wonho raised his hand up and pointed toward the large metal stairwell that led to the manager’s office. Hoseok started to make his way to the stairwell, but stopped when Wonho side-stepped into his path. He cut his eyes at him, his brows knitting tightly. He was in no mood to play any sort of games right now. This was about business.

“Sorry Hoseok-ah,” he said, holding his hands up in a mock show of surrender, “gotta search you. Boss’s orders.”

Hoseok looked around at the armed men in the warehouse before meeting Wonho’s gaze. “…are you fuckin’ serious?”

Seokjin took a step forward but Hoseok held an arm out to stop him. He rolled his eyes, lifting his other arm so that Wonho could frisk him. No one moved, however, and this irritated him.

“Whatever. Let’s get this over with, huh? I don’t have all day.”

“Yes, yes,” he said, moving toward him.

It didn’t take long for Wonho to search him. The clothing he wore was loose-fitting around his torso while his pants were a slim fit. It made movement easier for him, but would have been obvious had he concealed anything on his person. After the search was finished, he stepped to the side to let Hoseok through. He heard Seokjin move only to take note of the sound of him being stopped. He glanced over his shoulder to see that Wonho was now impeding his brother’s path.

“Wonho-yah,” came Seokjin’s even tone, “move.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Jin Hyung. Hoseok-ah has to go on alone.” He grinned. “You can keep me company instead.”

“It’s okay, Jin Hyung,” reassured Hoseok, “I can handle it from here.”

Seokjin didn’t seem satisfied with this, but he shook his head. He knew there was no stopping Hoseok now that he was set to take care of things once and for all. This would be the last time they would have this altercation with their former brothers of the underworld. Timing was crucial.

Hoseok ascended the stairwell slowly, the iron steps rattling under him as he moved. Both hands were in his pockets as he walked, his eyes continuing to look at all the various angles of the factory warehouse. If he knew Changkyun as well as he thought he did, then his other upper-tiered members were scattered around outside. They would be on the lookout for anyone to try and shake things up.

But he already had an ace up his sleeve for that.

At the top of the stairs, the door to the office stood. To the left, a grated walkway led out over the floor, spreading into catwalks that sprawled the entire place. There was a small square window on the door smudged with dirt. He knocked loudly, the sound reverberating off the walls and bouncing back to hit his body in small tremors. When the door opened, it was Shownu standing in the doorway. They stood silently, almost gauging the other, before he shifted off to the side to allow him entrance. Once inside, Shownu exited the manager’s office and closed the door behind him.

Hoseok saw Changkyun nursing a cup of coffee from an electric kettle. The only furniture in the room were two heavy wooden tables. The rest of the office was bare; a thin slit of a window overlooking the warehouse floor. He watched him turn, smiling as he sipped from the mug. Changkyun held out the cup to Hoseok.

“Did you want me to make you a cup?”

“Are you repurposing this place?”

Changkyun snapped his fingers and pointed at him, a look of satisfaction clearly painted over his face. “Wow, you don’t miss a thing, do you Hyung?”

He shrugged, gesturing to the electric kettle with a simple tilt of his head.

“The market value for this place was decent. People need jobs and I just got my hands on a permit to start turning this into a mass shipping facility.”

“How long have you been working on this?”

He watched him hum, as if he really needed a moment to pause and think. “A few months now.”

“I see.”

“There’s money to be made, so why not make it?” He walked back over to the kettle where another mug sat on the table. “Did you want coffee or no?”

Sighing, Hoseok pulled the sleeve of his jacket back to look at his watch. “I thought we were here to talk business?”

“Always so serious,” he said, smiling, “you can relax. I won’t bite.”

“You killed my brothers and my sister-in-law,” came Hoseok’s slow response, “what the fuck did you expect?”

Changkyun clicked his tongue against the back of his teeth while shaking his head. “Oh, come on now. I already told you that this wasn’t personal.”

“You made it personal.”

“Wrong!” His voice boomed out over the small space. “I made a point.”

Hoseok scoffed. “Is that what you call it? A point?”

“Yes, I do.” He set the cup down on the table. “I warned you, Hyung, about how weak your defenses were when you left your power behind. The people around you were at risk the minute you decided to step into the light. Money and power talk and while money has done you some good, your lack of power exposed your neck to me.”

There was a pregnant pause that stretched between them. He wasn’t sure if Changkyun was waiting for him to respond to his statements, but there was nothing for him to say. Not yet. He wanted to hear everything his former brother had to unleash on him before he came out with a rebuttal of his own.

Changkyun moved away from the table, crossing the room to stand opposite of him. His back was now to the office window while Hoseok’s remained facing the door. They stared each other down; both attempting to read the other.

If looks could kill…

“Your business was with us, the Golden Jackals. You didn’t have to drag Eden into it. She had nothing to do with this.”

Changkyun waggled his finger at him. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

“How?”

“Attacking just you would have seemed personal. That’s not my endgame. Eden was an unfortunate casualty, but she was also a necessary piece that you needed to lose in this game.”

A flash of burning outrage slashed across Hoseok’s chest. For him to refer to his sister-in-law as a mere “casualty” was about as much as he could stand. But instead of launching himself across the room to lay into him, he curled his hands into fists at his sides. He couldn’t let him get under his skin so soon. They’d only just started talking.

He took a breath, a seemingly vain attempt to dampen his anger.

“So,” Hoseok breathed, “you still think this is some kind of game, huh?”

“I do.” He grinned. “And I’ve won.”

Snorting, Hoseok folded his arms across his chest. “The game isn’t over, Changkyun-ah. I still haven’t given you the keys to my kingdom.”

He watched Changkyun’s mouth form into a small ‘O’ before it spread into an arrogant smirk. “And are you?”

“They’re not mine to give.”

“I beg to differ.” Changkyun took another step closer. “You held Yongsan and Gangnam in your hands for years. You controlled those territories in a way that the other district bosses can’t ignore. It won’t be as easy as a simple gang scuffle to settle things.”

Hoseok frowned. “And why not?”

“Because you made it that way.”

He couldn’t stop the incredulous laugh that slipped out of him. “So what? This is my responsibility?”

“It never stopped being your responsibility.” He closed the distance even further, reaching a hand to grasp at Hoseok’s shoulder. “Don’t you see that?”

For a while, all Hoseok could do was look back at him. This was the man he once considered a good friend; a brother. They had so many ideas for the future. Ideas to make things better. Back when everything made sense because life was simpler. Hoseok believed he could talk Changkyun into turning over a new leaf with him – of paving a road with clean hands and leaving the dirtiness of the underworld behind them. He thought that Changkyun was better suited for a life that didn’t involve crime, betrayal, and cruelty.

The hope for that began to dwindle the day Hoseok saw him murder the former Jade Fangs leader in cold blood.

It completely vanished when he cremated his family’s bodies.

“It’s still not too late, Hyung,” urged Changkyun gently, “you can still join me. Reclaim your territories and come back home. I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have.”

Hoseok sighed, closing his eyes and hanging his head slightly. “Changkyun-ah.” He lifted his head, eyelids fluttering as he opened them to meet the other man’s gaze. “I’m glad we had this talk. You’ve confirmed a few things for me.”

Changkyun canted his head slightly, his calm and welcoming expression melting into slight confusion. “What things?”

“That you haven’t changed. That you never will change.” Hoseok smiled pityingly at him. “You’re incapable of it.”

He felt his hand sliding off his shoulder, dropping limply at his side as he frowned. He didn’t say anything, so Hoseok continued.

“You’ve always been so sneaky. Planning everything so that you are always five steps ahead of the person you’re trying to overtake. You’re good at playing the long game and that’s why you always think you’ve won. That you’ll never be beaten.”

“I have yet to be proven wrong.”

“I’m a thinker too. But there are better thinkers at my side. People who retraced months of your steps in the process of doing their research. People who are better at getting into your head than I am.” Hoseok gave a wide gesture to the empty office space around them. “People who knew about your plans for this warehouse days before my arrival.”

For the first time since their conversation began, Changkyun looked perturbed. Hoseok wasn’t in the business of pouring salt into wounds, but he was done playing nice. He was done giving warnings.

He was finishing this today.

Lowering his gaze, he looked at his watch one more time. His smile grew a little bit wider as he locked his eyes with Changkyun’s – relishing in the realization that slowly overtook his face.

“And those same people found out that you had the gas and electric rewired for the building before having it turned on.”

And then the world shook violently beneath their feet from the explosion downstairs.

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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

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 50 51 52 53 54 55 56

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

Word Count: 2,258

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

AN: It’s just a downhill slope from now on, guys. That’s all I have to say, really...

Chapter 56: Does It Make Sense?

“Talk is not over, it doesn’t make sense still. Problem is not over, it doesn’t make sense....”

© 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.

Hwaseong – Gyeonggi District South Korea

There was a hole in the household now.

A hole so large that there wasn’t a chance for it to be filled.

Half the world was taken from them and they were still reeling from it all.

The only thing that kept Seokjin from spiraling out of control was the sight of Anastasia holding their child. He pulled her close as she slept, doing his best not to disturb her rest. He watched as their son, Gidae, cooed and pulled a fussy face before falling back asleep. Reaching out with his hand, Seokjin lightly pressed his finger against his small nose. Gidae giggled, coughed, then reached out blindly to grab Seokjin’s finger, squeezing it.

Misty-eyed, he laid there for a moment longer to admire the two beings who mattered so much to him. After a few more selfish moments, Seokjin pulled himself away from the bed and quietly closed the door. He quickly made his way downstairs where his parents were waiting. His mother pulled him into an embrace almost immediately.

“Thank you, Eomma,” he whispered, and he felt his mother squeeze him a little harder, “I appreciate you looking after them.”

His mother pulled away from him a measure, looking into his gaze. “Of course, Seokjin-ah. She’s the mother of our grandchild.”

He felt his father clap a hand on his shoulder. “Are you planning on marrying her?”

Seokjin grinned. “I will once I finish up some business.” His mother brushed his bangs off his forehead and he gave her a kiss to her cheek. “I promise.”

He glanced toward the stairwell and smiled gently. You’ll be safe here with Hope, Ana…

After reassuring his family that everything was fine, he quickly vacated the house where Hoseok was waiting for him. He bowed respectfully to his parents and Seokjin waved, the two of them making their way down the street. With the promise that he would make more time to come visit them, Hoseok led them from Seokjin’s childhood home.

There was a heavy silence that sat between them. Neither of them wanted to admit it out loud. Seokjin also knew there was something dark growing around Hoseok. It was an aura he hadn’t felt from him in several years. If he was a lesser man, Seokjin would have spoken of his fear out loud. But growing up around all his childhood friends, his brothers, reminded him of how far they’d all come.

Coming back to Hwaseong only reinforced the feeling.

“Hyung,” called Hoseok, interrupting the quiet that surrounded them.

He paused, not realizing that he’d continued walking ahead of him. Pausing, Seokjin turned to look back as Hoseok’s eyes remained cast toward the ground.

“What is it, Hoseok-ah?”

“I’m angry.”

Seokjin pursed his lips together, keeping his silence. He knew there was more his younger brother wanted to express. Two words hardly seemed enough.

“I can’t stop thinking about what Jungkook said.” Hoseok’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “It keeps playing like a record in my head. Over and over again.”

“Hoseok-ah…”

“If we had just pushed through…if we had just wiped out Changkyun and the others back then—”

“What good does thinking that do now?”

Both Seokjin and Hoseok turned, looking down the long stretch of road where more houses were. They saw Taehyung coming up the street, hands stuffed in his pockets with a limb of barley hanging from his lips. His sneakers, ripped jeans, and oversized sweater gave Seokjin pause. It was like he was seeing the younger version of Taehyung again – rebellious. He often had a smile on his face, deterring others from his internal thoughts. It was his distraction method.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Taehyung was a powder keg ready to explode.

He stopped a few feet away from them, spitting the barley stem from his mouth. Seokjin could feel the canyon growing between them and he tried to put on a brave face. He didn’t think he had the mental fortitude to handle whatever look was painted over Hoseok’s face at that moment.

Instead, Seokjin did what he could to bridge said gap.

“How is Raelyn-ssi?”

Taehyung grinned, shrugging one shoulder. “She gets along with my sister, so that’s a plus. My parents are a little standoffish for now, but that’s to be expected.”

Seokjin nodded. All of them agreed that the best course of action was to bring the girls out of Seoul. Having them return with them to their hometown was settled between everyone. They would be safer there. While their families weren’t a hundred percent sure what their business ventures entailed for the last ten years, they were smart enough to pick up the context clues that were left behind. People could hardly call their families traditionalist, which made placing the girls into their childhood homes easy.

The three of them began walking, Taehyung keeping a solid two feet away from them as they moved through the streets. Several familiar faces passed them and they greeted them accordingly. Seokjin almost forgot how peaceful it was. There was a heavy wave of nostalgia that washed over him. The same seemed prevalent in his brothers.

They left the small market, bee-lining for the Han River. The air was cold; crisp. It resembled the same setting from ten years ago when Namjoon first extended his hand for them to come to Seoul with him. When they all decided to delve into a world of darkness as a collective.

Pushing through the tall reeds, Seokjin tried to keep his thoughts at bay. But they whispered along the back of his mind, taunting him. Declaring that this tragedy they all were facing was the well-rehearsed machination of something completely out of their control.

Would things have turned out differently if we’d just stayed behind?

As they broke through the last stretch of reeds, they saw Yoongi standing on the large rock situated by the river. He wore a black band over his right arm, his hand dipping into a small pine box. The three of them paused, not wanting to disturb their brother as he spread pale ashes out across the lake. Seokjin frowned as Hoseok and Taehyung stood on either side of him.

Yoongi was persistent in his need to bury Jungkook and Eden’s remains at Jimin’s family’s home. No one disagreed with him. They didn’t want Jimin to be alone in the afterlife and his family readily agreed to the arrangement. The box contained a small amount of ashes from all three of their urns.

When he finished, he stepped off the rock and walked over to them. Before they could say anything, he threw the pine box on the ground. Seokjin stepped forward just as Yoongi brought his heel down on the box – smashing it underfoot. He continued to do so until all that remained were splinters of its former self. They would be blown across the land when a strong enough breeze came through. They all knew this was Yoongi’s way of smothering down the wealth of rage teeming inside of him.

“Yoongi-ah,” called Seokjin as Yoongi pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket, “have you gone to see your family?”

“They know I’m here,” was all he said as he lit the cigarette, taking a slow drag. Smoke exhaled from his nostrils as he brushed some of his hair out of his eyes. “And they know I won’t be staying long.”

He hadn’t meant to sigh, but he did anyway. The heavy silence returned almost immediately, and it was just about all he could stand. This was going to kill them. This atmosphere was going to be the end of them all.

There was a soft rustling noise to their left and they all looked as Namjoon parted through the reeds. He, too, was smoking and Seokjin had to resist the urge to fuss at him for potentially causing a fire. It was apparent that Namjoon had something he needed to say that required their absolute attention.

“Changkyun and the others are all back together in Seoul,” he said quietly, lifting his face to the sky, “we won’t have a lot of time.”

Hoseok sighed, folding his arms across his chest. “It won’t take them long to figure out that we’ve left Seoul.”

“If anything, they’ll be trying to gauge what our next move will be,” said Seokjin while nodding.

Yoongi scoffed, swiveling the cigarette to the side of his mouth. “Not like that’ll be hard.”

He caught Hoseok shifting slightly from out of the corner of his eye. “Yoongi Hyung…”

“We’re going to kill them.”

Taehyung delivered the sentence with an even timbre, slicing through the tension that radiated around them. Craning their necks to look at him, they took note of the placid expression on his face. Only Yoongi appeared unaffected with the finality of the statement.

Seokjin was afraid of this. He’d been afraid forthis.

“Taehyung-ah…”

“All of them.”

“Don’t be stupid,” snapped Namjoon, giving Seokjin’s racing heart some relief, “they have the cops in their pockets. Killing them won’t be easy.”

Taehyung narrowed his eyes. “That won’t be a problem when they’re dead.”

“Taehyung-ah,” said Hoseok quietly, “I understand how you feel. We all do. But this must be executed carefully. We’re not gangsters anymore. We don’t have the leverage we used to.”

“And whose fault is that, Hyung-nim?”

The venom was clear in his tone even though Taehyung hadn’t raised his voice.

“Hey.” Namjoon snapped his fingers. “Watch it, Kim Taehyung.”

They watched Taehyung give a casual shrug. “I don’t care how we do it, but they’re going to die.”

“They’re not dumb enough to pull the tiger’s whiskers this time,” said Yoongi flatly, “not after stepping on its tail.”

No one could argue with him in that sense. Poking them like they had in the last year after what they’d done would be a guaranteed death sentence.

He spit the cigarette from his mouth. “Which means they’re waiting on us to make the next move.”

“That,” Hoseok mused, “or they think we’re too broken to fight back.”

“Then let them think that.”

Everyone shifted their gaze to Namjoon. He was planning something and he wouldn’t cut any corners. He made his way over to the large rock, leaning his hip against it.

“Changkyun thinks he’s won, but the game isn’t over.” He frowned. “It’s far from finished.” Namjoon looked at his watch. “I’m waiting on some information to come to me. It should be here before the end of the day. Once I get it, we’ll start preparing.”

“We can’t leave anything to chance.” Seokjin carded a hand through his hair. “Every one of our bases needs to be covered.”

“Leave that to me,” chimed Taehyung, flashing his trademark boxy smile, “I’ll make sure that no one will be implicated.” He paused, his eyes darkening slightly. “Well, no one that matters, anyway.”

There were no counterarguments against him. What could they say, really, to dissuade him? He was The Shadow Claw for a reason. Regardless of their disconnect from the criminal Underworld, Taehyung seemed to have maintained a few contacts after they phased themselves out as the Golden Jackals.

It was clear that something was festering inside of him, but no one had the urge to try and get him to release it. Taehyung had his own way of doing things. He always had. This time would be no different. Arguing with him would only slow them down, keeping them even further from their end goal.

The Jade Fangs had to pay for what they’d done to them; to their family. It was the duty of those who were still alive to avenge those who were not. They had to make their amends to the dead.

One way or the other.

Namjoon’s phone rang suddenly, pulling everyone from their own inner musings. He answered, nodding and giving his ascent to whoever was on the other line. The call couldn’t have been more than three minutes long, but he hung up swiftly and looked at them as they patiently waited for him to speak.

“One week.”

Seokjin frowned. “Until what?”

“That’s when our window opens up.”

Hoseok’s text chime sounded. He pulled out his phone and peered at the screen for a handful of seconds before putting it back into his pocket. “Changkyun-ah wants to meet.”

Yoongi lofted a brow. “Why?”

“He wants to discuss terms.”

“Terms for what?”

“Yongsan and Gangnam,” Hoseok said as he sighed, “I’m either to hand it over to him or reclaim it.”

A loud bark of laughter erupted from Yoongi, his face clearly showcasing his disbelief with what he’d just heard. “Wow, what a pompous fucking piece of shit…”

Seokjin shook his head. “When does he want to meet? And where?”

“Incheon.” He paused, turning something else over in his head before continuing. “One week.”

Everyone looked at Namjoon as he smirked. “Looks like my intel was right.” He quickly pulled his phone back out, typing out something along the screen. “It’s time to reset the board, my brothers.”

“Fuck that,” clipped Taehyung, “we’re finishing this goddamn game.”

They all remained quiet. Taehyung was right. If they dragged it out any longer, there was a chance they’d get swept up in the darkness again. Or they’d be wiped out altogether.

Either way, Seokjin saw neither as a viable option. There was too much at stake and they’d already lost so much.

It was time to finish this.

My Time is the Singularity for this era. Fite me.

Call You Mine [MYG]

Plot: "I never regretted the day that I called you mine..." 

A Min Yoongi/Agust D one-shot. 

That's it. That's the summary. I have nothing else to say. 

Happy Birthday Min Yoongi!

Rating: PG // SFW

Genre: fluff | romance | idol romance | one-shot

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Female Reader

Warnings: None

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

Word Count: 1,912

AN: Wee. It’s late. I’m late. I’m always late. Who’s surprised? Not me. Happy Birthday Lil Meow Meow! All reblogs, critiques/reviews, comments and affection are accepted! Happy reading!

© 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.

"Who are you?"

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Your breathing shifted just now."

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest. That was how he always responded when you asked him that. Was it because you knew him so well? Or were you just anxious? Maybe it was a mixture of both. Either way, it was something you didn't want to admit aloud.

Not to yourself. Not to him.

"Does it matter?" he asked. 

Of course it mattered! 

You didn't respond, determined to get your answer first.

He flashed you a mischievous grin, a bit of his silver fringe falling along the bridge of his nose. "Why don't you guess?"

You felt your lips pulling into a pout, mustering what patience you had to not smack his bare chest with all the strength you could manage this late in the night. Even in the low light, he must have seen the disapproving look you were giving him. Lifting one hand up, he lightly poked your forehead and you whined at being teased. You knew he did this to get a rise out of you. He also knew how important it was for him to give you an answer.

It bothered you how much he always dragged his feet on this matter. The more logical side always reminded you to have patience. This was his own personal game that he liked to play with you. Sometimes he would win. Sometimes you did. 

No one was really keeping score anymore.

You didn't want to guess. You didn't feel like playing this game tonight. To showcase your intent, you roughly pulled from his side and flipped over on the bed to turn your back to him. This must have surprised him because he didn't start laughing at your reaction. In fact, the bed was absolutely still - your breaths barely audible in the dark.

Warmth touched the flare of your hip as he placed his hand there. You tried not to relish in his touch, but it was difficult. After everything you'd gone through to get to this moment, it was only self-inflicted pain to ignore him. Part of you knew to stand your ground. The other part was willing to give in to his advances.

Because you loved him so much. Because you loved all of him…so much.

“Hey,” he called softly, reaching over your stomach and pulling you close to his body, “remember when we first met? At that bar in that one town?”

You bit back a scoff. Like you could forget. He never made it easy for you to, even if you wanted to. 

You kept silent, not wanting to cater to his need to hear your voice. To hear how, even now, you found yourself in an endless loop of falling in love with him each and every single day. To him, you were a lifeline for survival. To you, he was the reason you pushed through your tiresome work week.

The bar was crowded that night. It was an average Friday evening. You were out with friends, hitting the town and it was the third bar on the stop of your group’s infamous “bar hops”. Nothing was special about that night. It was just the end of another long work week for you. Another end of being a faceless number down a long hall of cramped cubicles and endless phone calls. A moment’s reprieve from jittering printers and raucous fax machines.

Two days of escape from being a nameless paper pusher in a seemingly endless cycle of meaningless.

He walked through the doors with his entourage - exuding purpose and power. They were celebrating another successful performance and chatter about said performance was the first thing you heard as they burst through the door. You watched him go straight up to the bar and buy it out, saying everyone’s drinks for the rest of the night were on him.

You envied his smile. You envied his “can do” attitude that dripped from every square inch of his body.

But it was his freedom that made you jealous the most.

You weren’t wearing anything particularly fancy that night. A pair of acid washed jeans stuffed in combat boots, a loose sweatshirt that hung off one shoulder. Hell, even your hair was in a messy up-do. After all, you weren’t looking for an easy score that night. Your plans to get laid were the furthest thing from your mind.

Yet there was no mistaking the way he zeroed in on you. Out of all the patrons in the bar, you were the one he decided to nail his focus to. You were the one who somehow managed to get his attention.

So, what should have been a night of blissfully getting toasted with your friends turned into something much different.

Feeling his lips against the nape of your neck, you felt your breath hitch slightly as his mouth moved to speak. “I asked you what you were doing for the rest of your life.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that burst from your chest, causing you to curl up into a ball as you covered your mouth. It was one of the most absurd questions you’d ever been asked. Who even asked something like that in this day and age? What you were doing tomorrow? Sure. What you were doing next weekend? Of course.

The rest of your life, however, held a different weight altogether.

“I don’t even know what I’m doing tonight,” came your amused reply as you lowered your hands from your face. You still refused to look at him. “That’s what I said.”

The memories were flooding in quickly. His looks. The low dulcet sound of his voice. Even the cute little lisp he had when he spoke excitedly about something. His hair was a different color back then; jet black with an undercut. 

Everything changed in that one conversation. 

Despite his big spending at the bar, you knew he wasn’t well off. Not yet. But he had big dreams. He had drive. Money didn’t grow on trees and his dream would yield fruit if it prospered. Music, however, was such a shaky basket to throw all of your eggs into. But his passion and determination made you believe that he was telling the truth; that nothing would stop him from succeeding. He was determined and there was a small part of you that wished for his success. Somebody needed to grow wings and fly.

But the conversation didn’t take long to reverse back to you. On to your current occupation and your overall distaste with how things were going in your own life. It was a dead end road. You knew this. Somewhere along the way, you even accepted it. Some people were paper pushers and others were the stars that people could admire from afar. You had no place in that world. Your meager complaints and tiny goals could hardly hold a candle to the strength of his burning ambition.

That’s what you believed in the beginning.

You should’ve known better. 

After his friends and yours all got together to finish the bar hop for the night, your groups eventually wound up near the outskirts of town at a park. The drinking, laughter and flirting continued. He was never far from your side and neither were you from his. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, his hand found its way into yours, holding it close. Your lips touched soon after and it was a magical moment.

That was the beginning of the end for  you.

Days rolled into weeks. Weeks into months. You looked forward to the weekends not to escape the dreary worklife you found yourself trapped in, but to see his performances in underground venues and fringe shows. The energy he exuded from the stage was intoxicating and the cheers from the crowd as he pumped them up was contagious. It only took a few shows and you were screaming and hopping around like an idiot like the rest of them.

Afterward, your groups would meet again to drink and celebrate in the success of the show. It wasn’t embarrassing for you all to run through the streets, screaming and shouting as the thrill of the night cloaked you from head to toe. Bottles of beers in your hands, you ran through crowds and stumbled down stairs in hopes of catching the last train home. You both cuddled in a drunken haze together as everyone talked all over one another - wrapped up in their own conversations.

It was only then that it became apparent that the person you were slowly falling for had two personas. One for the stage and one for when it was just the two of you. Sometimes they bled into one another. Sometimes they were kept far apart from each other.

Agust D and Min Yoongi.

As his success continued to build, your anxiety mounted - worrying about where your place was in his life. More months passed and the venues started to change. You knew there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to go to a performance because it was in the middle of the work week. Or maybe it was too far for you to travel. You couldn’t risk taking off of work for something “trivial” like a concert performance. That’s what your managers would say. They would belittle you for inconveniencing the rest of your co-workers. 

You had an image to maintain.

When he showed up on stage with silver hair, you knew that it was time. Agust D was rising to a level of stardom you wouldn’t be able to compete with. Fans cheered and remained loyal. Fans who were willing to drop any plans they had to hit the road and support their idol. They’d been around far longer than you had; had been cheering for him during a time when you didn’t even know he existed. 

It was the life he’d chosen; one you knew was going to take wing.

How were you supposed to stay close beside him? How were you going to continue to nurture this thing that existed between you both?

Feeling his arms wrap around your bare stomach, he pulled you even closer. You could feel his heartbeat slowly bumping against your shoulder blades. Yoongi pressed a kiss behind your ear, one of your weak spots, before allowing his tongue to glide along the curve of your jaw. You resisted the urge to moan at how he made you feel, both in that moment and every moment before now.

“I never regretted the day that I called you mine…”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, blurring your vision. Part of you wanted to curse him for his words. For his way with words. But that was how he always was. On the stage or off, it didn’t matter. It was his answer for any worry that threatened to smother you into a dark pit of no return.

Slowly, you turned in his arms. Yoongi’s eyes peered at you, his brows furrowing with concern despite the smirk playing on his lips. 

“Do you know the answer?”

That was the answer to your question. It was always going to be the answer.

Lifting your arms up, you wrapped them around his neck and leaned in, your lips barely touching his. “You’re Min Yoongi…” This time, you could feel your own smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “...and you’re mine.”