"Even ignorance can't hide the fact that you reek of death."
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Sometimes, a little teamwork is all it takes to rupture an empire.
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BTS AU
BTS JUNGKOOK X READER
GANG RING AU
BTS X MAFIA AU
100,000+ WORDS
*not actually about phantoms, lol*
Best...
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Jungkook sat you down inside, on the comfy cornered lounge.
"Stay here."
He reached down, placing his hand on your shoulder, infiltrating your soul with his oddly malicious concern.
"You going to be okay here for a minute?"
Not sure of what was going on, you decided to follow basic conversational queues, and nod your head in response. In a pathetic attempt to maintain what shuttering eye-contact you had with the man, you quickly reel your attention away from how much your hands were sweating.
You didn't have too long to panic, though.
Only a small moment later, he had left—not without flashing a smile your way—but disappeared. His lean, taunting figure weaved between the two crimson curtains, and out of sight.
Where did he go?
After that, it became unexplainably quieter in the booth room.
Can he come back?
You take this moment to try and gather yourself.
What are you thinking? Stop.
From the moment Jungkook had given you that intense stare just outside the others' booth, you had this new found thirst, and it was simply indescribable. Your composure seemed to have slipped away from you far too quickly to salvage.
Why were you suddenly feeling this way?
The chatter and club music from outdoors was hard to distinguish, as all of your senses slowly began to swirl at the feeling in your gut.
The loud audio in your ears sounded almost like a speaker was twirling around your head, creating the illusion of craze.
Your head was starting to spin.
How much time has passed?
Everything sped up, as the room was soon violently spinning. It felt like your whole body was rocking, as you tried to wait for the wave of dizziness to pass you by.
Somewhere in the red and black blur of the booth, a mobile figure came into view.
The curtains peeled apart.
Tall. Dark hair.
Big arms.
He puts a bottle of Soju on the table in front of you.
I'm probably not going to need that...
Your eyes dart back and fourth, trying to find the right angle in which you can begin to see something, anything with some sort of clarity.
As your head moves toward the left—and your eyes follow—you finally meet the person that had entered.
