The bubbles travelled up Jimin’s arms and stopped at his elbow. Maybe he shouldn’t have used so much soap. But it was a big stain. He would have lost the deposit on the apartment. Besides, cleaning the apartment distracted him.

Jimin whistled one of those annoying repitive pop songs they play three times a day on the radio. He was in too good of a mood to care. Any minute now.

The water was a dark murky color now, Jimin carried the bucket to the bathroom, dumped it into the bathtub, and began refilling.

“Are you serious?”

Jimin ran back to the living room.,

Black trenchcoat, black wings, hands firmly planted his hips as he surveyed the room before he finally turned to face Jimin. His eyebrows were behind too long bangs, but Jimin was sure they were glaring. “Was this really necessary,” he asked.

Jimin smiled sheepishly, “I missed you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi sighed, “That doesn’t mean you take an axe to the guy’s face.”

Jimin looked at the limp body draped across the couch, the axe was still embedded in his skull. This time Jimin remembered to put plastic on the couch. The blood was a to get out last time.

Jimin shrugged, “You stay longer when they die violently.”

“Because his soul is broken. Now I’ve got to go find all of the little pieces of him, and that takes a couple of days since you made it so easy for the soul to get out. It’s like your American vacation all over again.” Yoongi ran a hand through his hair.

He looked the same, he always looked the same, ever since Jimin was ten years old and lying down on a hospital bed. That was the day Yoongi took pity on him and healed all of his broken bones.

Unfortunately for Yoongi, he forgot that once you see death once, you can see him all the time.

“You never visit me otherwise,” Jimin said pitifully.

Yoongi turned to him, Jimin pulled his best pout. Yoongi coughed and looked away, but not fast enough to hide his reddening face. “You make my job too hard,” he mumbled, “this has to stop.”

“Maybe,” Jimin attempted a smile.

“You’re going to keep doing this, aren't you? ,” Yoongi groaned, his wings drooped against the ground, “Fine, let’s get coffee tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyes grew impossibly wide. “What?”

“I like that place downtown, called Ambrosia, they serve good cakes. You’re paying. And you cannot touch me, or else you die. Sound good?” Yoongi smirked.

Jimin's mind was still processing what Yoongi just said, so he could only nod.

“Great. I’m going to get his soul now, clean this up before tomorrow,” and with one last wave he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Jimin stared at the black spot Yoongi left on the floor for another three minutes. His heartbeat raced a mile minute. And then the realization hit and his mouthstretched into an impossibly large smile.

Coffee. With Yoongi. He is going to get coffee with Yoongi. Tomorrow.

Jimin fist pumped the air.

He landed on wet carpet. .

He ran back to the bathroom to turn off the running water. He had a body to dispose. A carpet to clean. And a date with death.

Plot shamelessly taken from this post 

But all of my drafts are too long and I wanted to write some sort of silly au. Happy Birthday Yoongi!!

Edit: Zunnie translated this part into Vietnamese! Thank you! You can read it, or just look at it , here