"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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When you arrived home, the house was as it always was when you walked through the door to your apartment.
It was the same way you set it up when you left, the same way you needed it to be.
That was how you liked things.
Relatively organised, despite the chaos.
You didn't have to worry about the order inside ever being jeopardised, because you were the only one who lived in that apartment.
You always came home to an empty house.
The same empty house. It was a routine with no imperfections other than the bits and pieces of weaponry that you often brought with you.
Coming home to an empty, lifeless space was both convenient, and kind of morbid.
Walking into the empty house knowing you were unprotected by means other than yourself was a cold, shrilling feeling.
But somehow, it made you feel safer.
You had always been safest alone.
People bring drama, and deceit. People bring problems. You always preferred to keep your distance.
But none of that really mattered. Not how rarely the cleaning-supplies were used, or how frequently the fans were left on, or how empty the fridge always was.
It didn't matter what meaningless objects lay around the house.
Because what makes a house a home is those inside it.
And that was you. Only you.
A soulless, passionless, lifeless, young person who spends her time playing lapdog with the big leagues.
Your lack of exoticism or romance could not go unnoticed, once inside the walls of your humdrum apartment.
Everything about your place radiated lazy.
From the kitchen, to the belongings sprayed out as far as the eye could see. You made it obvious how little time you had to keep spare for cleaning.
Upon looking down at the living room floor, you could barely tell what colour the carpet was beneath all the guns, frag-straps and other war gear.
The best attempt you had at interior design, was your old tattoo machine and broken skateboards hanging from the walls. There were some succulents on the window that were once pretty.
But death had since become them.
Sighing, you tried to stop thinking about it.
You dropped your bag to the ground beside the front door. It made a loud thump which implied the immense weight you had been carrying, as it echoed through the lonely walls and alerted anyone else in the building that their infamously secretive neighbour was home.
