Jungkook looked through the viewfinder of the camera, trying to capture the portraits that Taehyung wanted him specifically to take. Taehyung was trying to be funny at first, throwing unattractive faces and mocking poses, and the younger man obviously couldn’t hold in his sniggering.
But then Taehyung became serious, as if he were on an actual set. He looked directly into the lens, relaxed and expressionless save for his eyes now bursting with fervor.
At that very moment Jungkook expected that familiar but uninvited trash in his gut; he knew what it was, he knew not how to rid himself of it. He snapped the photo, the shutter sounded, Taehyung did not flinch. Taehyung shifted his position to show off his side profile. Jungkook gulped, trying hard not to show his jitters while steadying the camera. The shutter went off.
Oh, Taehyung was beautiful.
Oh, he was beautiful but Jungkook could only let his infatuation become increasingly agitated from being caged. He’d rather destroy himself, rather himself than anyone else… but anyone else rather than Taehyung.
yoongi x reader/you (3rd person)
angsty with a tinge of fluff
pg-15 ; b/c of murder
w/c: 1363
— for @sleepytime-sugatea ♡
wherein you discover Yoongi’s secret.
It wasn’t a particularly special day. Y/N was lounging on the couch, binge watching a meaningless drama and stuffing carrot sticks into her mouth. Outside, the clouds were getting heavy, saturating in thick grey clumps. The perfect day for her, but nothing extraordinary. Her phone buzzed on the table, and she answered it without looking.
“Hello?”
“Babe,” Yoongi huffed almost breathlessly. Y/N’s face crumpled, noticing his short-winded tone.
“What’s wrong?”
“Are you at home?”
Y/N looked around her apartment, turning the volume of the TV down. She smiled to herself, wondering why he would ask. “It’s Saturday.”
Yoongi cursed loudly. “Of course. Don’t leave the house.” Without an explanation, he hung up. Y/N felt her stomach drop. From the five years of being together with Yoongi, never once had he sounded so anxious, let alone hang up without a goodbye. His ambiguous nature had been deciphered by her and Y/N now understood how he worked, as he understood her.
Or so she thought since he should’ve already known that a dubious situation such as this would make her mind run. Not wanting to jump to conclusions as she does more often than not, Y/N stood up to make herself a cup of tea.
She sent a quick text to Yoongi after getting comfortable on her couch again.
Tell me what’s wrong.
Her phone kept silent, her wandering mind stopped when she forced her attention to the television. The only reminder that Y/N kept of the moment was her eyes that kept darting to her phone. It wasn’t more than half an hour before there was a loud rapping at her door. Y/N sighed loudly, not wanting to move.
When Yoongi called out, somewhat desperately, Y/N shot up and ran to the door quicker than she could close her eyes.
Yoongi’s hair was a mess, his eyes were wild, even frightened. Y/N reached out to gently touch his cheek. “What happened?” He only took her wrist and planted a hasty kiss on it, shaking his head.
“You’ve got to come to my house, please. We’ve got to go right now, just get a coat.” He glanced down at Y/N’s lingerie under her untied robe and flushed. “Actually, just change. Please.”
“Aren’t we just going to your house?” Y/N retorted in a flirtatious manner, wondering why she couldn’t just put on a jacket and shorts.
Yoongi put his fist to his eyes. “Ah, yes. I just need you with me right now, please. Can you change now?”
Five years and Y/N still flushes at the simplest of things. Although a little concerned at the current events, Y/N let Yoongi inside and went to put on proper clothes. When Y/N returned, she found him shutting all the curtains and switching the TV off. Immediately, he grabbed her hand and they rushed out of the apartment.
Yoongi drove to his house silently. Y/N chattered a little in order to lighten the mood, or get him to talk, but she had never seen him as disturbed as he was now. Being a little calculative, Y/N did not like being thrust into the unknown. As her own doubts crossed her mind, the only grip on being able to keep cool was because of Yoongi’s hands in hers.
Y/N never failed to be amazed any time they came to his inherited mansion. Articulate, grand, and vintage. They agreed on reaching their 7th anniversary before ever moving in together. Yoongi often spent weeks on ends at her apartment, not liking the wide open spaces and lonely rooms of his abode. This wasn’t his permanent home though as he was already renting an apartment closer to the city for convenience sake. Mainly to only be a few blocks away from Y/N. They liked their arrangement anyway, both needed more personal space than others.
Before entering the house, Yoongi stops Y/N and turns her to face him. It hurt to see the lie spread in his empty smile, but Y/N smiled back, wanting to be as supporting as she could.
“I love you,” he whispered before planting a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll explain later. I will so please don’t look so worried.”
For Yoongi, anything for Yoongi. “You better,” Y/N mumbled. There was a flash of relief and calm as Y/N stroked his cheek, his eyes closing in spite of his tensed heart. The moment was over quick, with Yoongi back to looking insincere. They walked in the house and was greeted by Namjoon.
“Go up and continue your series. I’ll be back soon, my love,” Yoongi blurted. His hold tightened before letting Y/N’s go. Y/N quickly kissed him on the cheek and he was gone before anything else was said.
“Don’t worry,” Namjoon said easily, unsure of how Y/N would react. They’ve been friends for as long as she had been together with Yoongi.
“It’s hard not to,” Y/N replied, “but I’ll trust him until it gets carried away.”
With Namjoon’s company and reassurance, her mood lightened. As she walked through the familiar house, that heavy feeling she had felt since her apartment only darkened. Outside, she heard the fall of rain. Finally, she thought, the clouds had held it in for so long. Y/N tried to rationalise that it was the weather that suddenly made her bones feel cold and her fingers numb.
They found their way upstairs to the recreation room where Y/N put on the TV to continue her binge watching. It was hard to concentrate on clearing her mind when Namjoon kept glancing at the door, anticipating something, but soon he settled and made a rash comment on the show. They then started to bicker about the characters and the awful plot, which kept their worrying thoughts at bay.
“I don’t think he should’ve even been in this episode,” Namjoon said. “There’s no development with him here.”
Y/N gasped. “He sets the mood!”
“By being good-looking?” Namjoon sniggered.
“I don’t watch these things to look at their faces,” Y/N defended although her cheeks rushed with blood.
“Okay, fine. I’ll admit tha—”
A gunshot had echoed through the rooms. The silence felt heavier. Before the shock could pass, Y/N was out the door and running. She heard Namjoon’s scream for her to stay fill her ears but her heartbeat drowned it out. There was no knowing where it had come from until another gunshot sounded and she followed it downstairs to the living room.
Namjoon ran straight into the room to block her view but Y/N pushed him aside with a cry and Yoongi turned like a startled beast. There was breathless screaming from the wounded man on the floor, and Yoongi was standing over him, gun at the ready. When she met his eyes, oh, his freezing eyes, she flinched.
No one moved. Namjoon had his hands up, stance ready to dash and grab her if she ran. Fear cracked through the ice in Yoongi’s eyes the longer he stared at Y/N. She was now trembling, cold and afraid, unable to process anything but the heart aching love she had for Yoongi. The disabled man continued to groan, trying to drag himself awy. Y/N took a step forward, now looking at Namjoon. He relaxed, only a little, when he figured what she was going to do.
When she reached Yoongi’s side, they were both wet with tears. He expected a slap, a kick, a scream. He trembled, his gun still aimed at the man. Y/N took his free hand, all the while comforting him with her eyes, and locked their fingers tightly. She unexpectedly felt collected, realising that her love for this reckless man could overpower even murder.
Oh, how he broke when she looked towards the injured person and slowly nodded her head. Yoongi squeezed the trigger as hard as he squeezed her hand.
member: Taehyung-centric | mentions of Seokjin
genre: angst
rating: pg-15
t/w: death
wherein Taehyung is the grim reaper.
Taehyung’s grip on his scythe tightened as he watched the next person he was supposed to welcome. The man was over-joyous, filled with life and happiness, as he kissed his wife goodbye. His child, barely able to walk without stumbling, had stood up shakily. The man reached down to catch him after he managed to take a few steps. Taehyung could hear their laughter from where he stood, light and genuine. He glanced down at his wrist—the minute timer etched onto his rotting skin determined the amount of time he had before it was time to guide a soul to the gates. It was not moving yet.
15:00
The man finally left his house, finally got into his car, and finally began his journey to work. The timer began. Taehyung sat in the back seat, admiring the little details of life that people never noticed. To have a preferred route to work where there were more trees and less houses. To change the radio station often but finally settling on switching it off, rolling down the windows instead. To prefer leaving the house way before time to not have to succumb to rushing around. Taehyung was then sitting in the front seat, full on examining this man. Even though he was what people deemed the ‘Grim Reaper’, he could feel what it was like to live.
9:19
Taehyung wasn’t surprised when the man pulled up to the train station, immediately finding an empty parking spot. Driving to his office would surely take more time than taking public transport. He followed closely behind the man as he scanned his card and walked through the turnstile. Was this where he would have a heart attack? Accidentally fall onto the tracks? That’s the only thing that irked Taehyung about his job—his instructions were so vague that he always needed to follow them around until the timer stopped. Before going to the platform, the man went to a vending machine to grab a can of coffee. Taehyung almost smiled when the man cussed for not having enough change in his wallet. Suddenly, the man’s phone rang.
5:26
It was the first time for Taehyung to be confused as he worked. He knew his target, had scanned through his whole life before coming to down. He was a part of Death, he was the creation of God, and he didn’t have the ability to feel like a mortal. But he was confused as he found himself sitting in the back seat of the man’s car again. This time, the radio was blasting and the man was speeding back, he assumed, home. He hadn’t caught the conversation he had with the caller. Taehyung only remembered the wild eyes, the sudden break of sweat, the frantic movements to push past the crowded station. He watched now as tears burst from the man’s eyes. Taehyung stared at the road and heard thunder even though the sky was clear. He glanced down at his wrist.
0:59
The scene at his house was chaotic. A woman’s anguished screaming—his wife, his wife who not long ago was gentle and calm and happy. Taehyung stepped hesitantly into the house, rethinking his task. He worked around the idea that… but it couldn’t be possible. How could Death deceive him? The man followed the voice upstairs to find his wife clawing at a door, nails and fingers tinted red. He pushed his wife aside forcefully and began kicking the door. Taehyung stood behind them, watching, anticipating. His scythe began to glow as the person’s life tugged on its line.
0:23
It felt like a long time before the door burst open. It revealed the little boy face-down in the bathtub, unmoving. His wife immediately pushed past her husband, scrambling to pull the small thing out of the water. She howled, “Seokjin, Seokjin, do something.” But the man had frozen. He could only sputter.
0:18
Taehyung deadpanned, unable to understand their turmoil. He just needed to do his job; he momentarily wondered why Death had given him the wrong man to follow. So, he waited until the boy’s heartbeats began to slow before he stepped around the petrified man and into the bathroom. Taehyung removed the hood of his cloak, baring his half rotten face, waiting to greet the tiny soul that would soon flutter from the boy.
0:12
A disorientated grunt, a stumble, and a fall. The man, Seokjin, had crumbled to the ground. His wife, clutching the cold boy to her chest, did not notice. Her panting grew deeper but her tears had stopped. Taehyung felt the life, the love and the joy and the contentment that he had witnessed in the family before, dwindle down like a candle’s flame on its last breaths. He cracked his neck and knelt next to the woman. The scythe now burned in his grip.
0:05
0:04
0:03
0:02
Finally, a sob from Seokjin.
0:01
The child’s heart thumped. Once. Twice. Then there was silence.
0:00
Taehyung smiled at the floating soul that materialised in front of him and offered him his hand. The little boy smiled back before taking it.
