"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 caught your eye from across the room.
You simpered at him for a half-second, before glancing back down, and focusing hard as you strapped a thick vest to your torso.
The eight of you took your time readying for your battle.
The battle.
The final showdown between two evils.
It was finally upon you.
After your bullet-protection was secure, you glanced back up at the madness cooking in the room with you. You looked around, eyeing the fidgety boys as they all suited up in the kind of attire that could probably be suitable for a world war.
You never knew that there were so many shades of black.
For the eight of you were draped in all sorts of darkness.
Jimin stood behind Taehyung, giggling at a pitiful joke while he zipped up a compression shirt for his partner. Taehyung laughed along with the joke, working on his leather gloves.
Hoseok was crouched down on the floor, lacing up his huge stomper boots.
Yoongi was leaned casually up against one of the walls in the room, chuckling amongst the others while he polished his dearest knife—his favoured weapon.
Namjoon was grinning down, dimples on full display, as he secured a holster strap around his thick thigh. He wasn't smiling because he liked Jimin's joke—but more so because the very fact of how good he looked, was absolutely something to smile about.
Of all the attire options he had access to, Namjoon chose a classic black singlet, so that he could have his broad arms out on display for the enemy to regard.
At the very least, he compromised on wearing his vest.
Jin complained about his hunger pains while strapping a belt of explosives to his slim waist—completely hellbent on deciding where they would get food after the mission was over with.
He suggested KFC.
And then there was Jungkook. Mirroring your moves, zipping up his vest in time with you. He was perfectly parallel to you in the room, and it was as if you were in your own little world together, while suiting up.
He watched you like a wolf watches its prey.
Slowly. Closely. Patiently.
The room was filled with amusement. The eight of you clad head-to-toe in black. Layers. Straps and guns and knives and all kinds of eyesores.
Eight dark assassins.
Killers, hitmen, murderers.
And weirdly enough, apparently even murderers still laugh at shitty puns.
