#mark as jonas is the most genius thing i’ve ever said

[ropebunnykant]

antania sent me one (1) message about the possibility of a skam thailand remake and now i’m casting the show using the gmmtv roster in her dms

[kookitykook]

Seven Soulmarks: Yoongi (“I’ve never actually listened to Kanye West.”)

~genre: soulmate au, fluff, sfw

~word count: 4.5k 

~warnings: none this is v cute  

~pairing: record store owner!yoongi x y/n (there are also features from a few of the other soulmates, try and spot them heh heh) 

~summary: At the exact moment of your twentieth birthday, the first words your soulmate will ever say to you appear in black ink on the inside of your left wrist. Seven boys meeting their soulmates shows once again how the universe knows exactly what it’s doing. 

See how the other boys meet their soulmates (all interconnected) 

Jungkook -- Taehyung -- Jimin -- Namjoon -- Hoseok -- Jin

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Min Yoongi considered himself a simple kind of man. 

He was fortunate and grew up in a loving family, he had a few close friends that he could always depend on, and he loved music. 

Yoongi enjoyed simplicity. He didn’t mind spontaneity or partying in other people, but that lifestyle just didn’t interest him. 

For his entire life all Yoongi dreamed about was opening up his own music shop. A place where people could come and find any sort of music that touched their soul. 

That was his dream. Simple, to the point, and attainable. 

So by the time his twentieth birthday had rolled around, Yoongi had worked tons of part time and random side jobs for five years and saved every single penny, and was able to buy the space. He was still in university, still a teenager, but he’d been smart enough and worked hard enough to make wise choices to realize his dream. 

And all that hard work was finally paying off. 

“Alright Mr. Min, here are the keys,” said the realtor of the empty space that would soon be Yoongi’s store. “Congratulations on your new property!”

Yoongi thanked the realtor, walking her out to the door and seeing her out. He turned back to look at his family and friends who had joined him for the occasion. 

He held up the keys to his store and grinned. “I did it.”

His mother squealed, rushing forward and hugging him tightly around the neck. The others that had amassed followed suit, his father and brother embracing him tightly, some of his buddies from high school, and his new friend from university that was just a year younger than him that he had met at the tiny on-campus record store (she’d been buying a Jonas Brothers album and he’d only slightly been judging her). 

“I’m proud of you, son,” his father said sincerely.

“Oh my boy is so grown up,” his mother added, hugging him for what felt like the millionth time. 

Yoongi just chuckled, returning the embrace tightly. “I wouldn’t be here without you all. Thank you.” He bowed deeply. 

“It’s a big day for you Yoongs,” his university friend said as she jumped up on the counter behind her. “It’s your birthday, the day you buy your shop, and your soulmark should be appearing any second.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes, making his friend laugh. He had been hoping to avoid the topic of his soulmark in front of his parents, something she knew quite well. He needed to keep this in mind for whenever she got her soulmark.

“Oh, yes!” his mother squealed, checking the time. “You were born around 12:14. Oh, I can’t wait to meet my boy’s soulmate.” 

Yoongi scrunched his nose as his mother pinched his cheeks. “The mark doesn’t tell me when I’m going to meet her, Eomma.”

“Yes but still!”

“It should be showing up now,” his brother remarked casually. 

“Oh, let me look!”

Yoongi just sighed as his mother took his left hand and held the inside of his wrist up to her face. She cocked her head to the side in confusion. 

“Who’s Kanye West?” she asked innocently, mispronouncing the rapper’s first name. 

Yoongi’s friends and brother burst out laughing.

“Aw Yoongs, don’t tell me you’re stealing Kim’s man!” his friend shouted, leaning against his brother as she cackled. 

“Shut up,” he muttered, pulling his hand away and looking at the mark himself. 

There is black ink was his mark, the first words his soulmate would ever say to him. 

‘I’ve actually never listened to Kanye West.’

Well. That was … surprising. 

At his friends urging, Yoongi repeated the words. 

“Who hasn’t listened to Kanye West?” his brother mused. “Seriously, does your soulmate live under a rock or something?”

“Well at least we know you two will have to work on finding common ground,” his friend cut in. 

It was well known that Yoongi’s favorite artist was Kanye. Strange that his soulmate would have never listened to him. 

Yoongi just shrugged. “That’s fine. I can introduce her to him. She can introduce me to her interests, too.”

His friends and brother ‘awwww’ed. 

“Ack, shut up.”

***

You considered yourself a simple kind of girl. 

You were raised by a single mother, but your childhood had been filled with joy. You enjoyed fashion, had a soft heart for all animals, and you loved music. 

You had only been six years old when your mother enrolled you in a piano class, and even though you cried terribly when she left you at the strange new place for an hour, by the time the first class was over you were asking if you could come back the next day. 

That was the first time you discovered that music ran through your veins. Emotions that your six-year old brain didn’t know how to process yet suddenly made more sense when you heard that emotion being played on the piano or sang in the most beautiful way. 

Music became your life, and your mother did everything in her power to give you opportunities to pursue your dream. When you entered high school you were gifted a scholarship to attend an arts conservatory, which is where your talent really started to reach new heights. 

Soon you were being scouted for various university music programs and you even received a few invitations to join symphonies around the country. 

The world was your oyster, anywhere you wanted to with the piano, you could have gone. 

But … you were a simple kind of girl. 

Sure, traveling the world and playing alongside some of the biggest names in the music world would be great, but it just wasn’t for you. 

You didn’t want to move away from your mother. You didn’t need fame or recognition. 

All you wanted was to be with those you loved, play the piano, and share your love of music with others. 

So that’s what you did. You respectfully turned down all the wonderful offers that had been sent your way, hoping and praying that the opportunities would go to people who craved and deserved them more than you. 

After graduation you enrolled in a small online university where you earned your Associate’s Degree in business relatively quickly. You moved out of your mother’s house to an apartment complex near to her, but not so near that you didn’t have that sense of independence you wanted. And you started to teach. 

You never would have guessed that teaching piano would have brought you such fulfillment, but it turned out to be one of the greatest sources of joy in your life. 

Sure, there were kids who hated the instrument and were just there because their parents made them, but there were also the children who you saw so much of yourself in. You saw the joy and the emotional realizations on their faces as they played, the excitement when the notes started to click in their minds. 

It was one of the most fulfilling aspects of your life. 

And this is what you were talking about with your closest friend/roommate on your twentieth birthday as you waited for your soulmark to appear. 

“She’s an absolute genius, I swear,” you said to your friend, who was listening with a grin. “She’s only eight years old and she’ll be able to outplay me soon.”

“Oh I doubt that.”

“No, seriously!” You took a sip of your wine, throwing your blanket over your cold feet. “She’s phenomenal. I’m helping her parents look into some scholarship for an arts school. Gah, she’s so good. But anyways, I’m sorry, I keep talking about me.”

“It’s your birthday!” your roommate argued, pouring herself another drink. “And your soulmark day for crying out loud, you’re allowed to talk about yourself.”

“Yeah but what about you?” you pushed. “How are things going at the shelter?”

Your roommate was a few years older than you and waited tables, but spent her free time volunteering at an animal shelter just down the road — that was actually where the two of you had met. 

“Really good, actually!” she said, sitting up straighter and proceeding to tell you about the shelter’s new initiative to get all of the stray cats adopted by Christmastime. 

Before you knew it, a half hour and another bottle of wine had passed and it was almost time for your soulmark to appear.

“What do you think it will say?” your roommate asked, waggling her eyebrows at you. 

You laughed, stroking the still blank skin on the inside of your left wrist. “I don’t know. As long as it’s nice, I don’t care.”

Your roommate stiffened and you immediately realized your mistake. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I — I wasn’t even thinking.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” she assured you, biting her lip as she looked down at her own wrist. 

(You hadn’t met your roommate yet when her soulmark had appeared, but the ink on her wrist read. ‘Do you have any idea who I am, you psycho?’ You had assured her that whenever she met her soulmate, the context of the situation would make the comment much less cruel, but she rarely believed you.)

“Tonight’s not about my mark,” your roommate said with a forced smile. “It’s about yours! How much time left?”

You checked your watch. “Uh, any second now actually.”

Your roommate squealed and scooted closer to you, both of you staring at your wrist as light music played in the background. 

You let out a heavy breath as black ink slowly started to appear. 

“There it is, there it is,” your roommate chanted excitedly

And sure enough, there it was. 

‘Hi, welcome to Agust D’s Records, I’m Yoongi.’

“Well then,” your roommate deadpanned. “That makes it … pretty clear.”

You stared at your wrist silently, mouth open like a fish. A dumbfounded, overwhelmed fish. 

“Yoongi,” you whispered after a few uncomfortably long, silent seconds. “His name is Yoongi.”

“Well where the hell is this Agust D’s Records place?” your roommate mused, whipping out her phone to search for the store. “We’ve got to go there ASAP.”

“This is so weird,” you murmured to yourself. “I … I don’t really know how to feel. I mean, I can find him like … anytime at all.”

“Yeah you really lucked out,” your roommate responded. “No mystery for you. And look here.” You leaned over to look at her phone. “The store is only a few miles from us. We can go see him tomorrow!”

Your heart seemed to seize in your chest.

“Or not!” your roommate said quickly upon seeing your panicked expression. “You can go see him whenever you want, it is completely up to you. If you want me to go with, I will, but I also understand if you want to go by yourself. The ball is in your court, Y/N.”

You gulped, resting your head on her shoulder. 

“Yoongi,” you repeated dumbly as your roommate stroked your hair. “His name is Yoongi.”

***

2 YEARS LATER 

“Okay I’m just saying to consider it, Yoongs.”

“Don’t call me that,” Yoongi muttered, glaring over at his best friend as he reorganized the Beatles section that a bunch of high school punks had put out of place. “Tell me again why you’re bothering me instead of doing your job that I so graciously pay you to do?”

His friend scoffed, sitting down on the ground and leaning back on her palms. “It’s a genius idea and you know it. The store is doing great, and your brother is more than ready to take over as manager here. This is the perfect time to look into opening a new branch!”

“I’m perfectly content with just one store for now. Why are you so hung up on this?”

“I just have this feeling, Yoongs,” she continued. Yoongi watched as she leaned forward, subconsciously rubbing her soulmark that she’d received only half a year ago. It wasn’t much to see, just a simple ‘No.’ “I feel like we’re meant to move into the city proper and open a new branch. I just know it.”

“Oh you do?”

“Yeah,” she retorted, passion lighting up in her eyes. “Don’t you feel like the universe is all connected sometime? Like … like we’re all causing ripples in a pond that overlap with each other exactly like we’re meant to. And I just feel it in my bones that we’re meant to expand the store! We’re not supposed to keep making our ripples here forever!”

Yoongi sighed, looking down at her with sympathy. “Look. I’ll be honest with you, your idea is a good one. But,” he said quickly when she started to beam, “I don’t think it’s the right time just yet. Let me think about it some more and look over our finances. Let’s not rush into our ripples before we’re supposed to okay?”

His friend grinned, nodding and jumping up to hug him tightly. “That was a pretty good metaphor, don’t you think?”

“No, it was stupid. Now go man the register and leave me alone.”

“Love you too, Yoongs!”

“And stop calling me that!”

Yoongi rolled his eyes as his friend disappeared around the corner of the aisle he was on. He loved that girl, but she drove him insane. He hoped his soulmate wasn’t so extra, he was pretty sure he could only handle one overly dramatic person in his life. 

It’d been just over two years since his soulmark had shown up, and he had yet to hear the words on his wrist. At first he used to try and find ways to bring up Kanye West to every customer that caught his eye, but that got exhausting and disappointing really quick. 

So he decided to just let it be. His soulmate would show up when they were supposed to. 

“Yoongs. Psst, Yoongs.”

“Did I not just tell you to go man the register?” Yoongi asked in exasperation as his friend popped her head around the corner yet again. “What is it?”

“She’s back,” she said with wide eyes. “That girl.”

“What girl?”

His friend rolled her eyes and huffed. “Don’t play dumb, you know which girl.”

Yoongi swallowed. He did know which girl she was referring to, he had known right away. 

You started coming into the shop about a year ago, and he had been struck right away. It had been a particularly rainy day, and your hair had been dripping onto your shoulders, making the green of your sweater look particularly dark. He had introduced himself to you like every other customer (albeit his voice had cracked because you were staring at him with the prettiest, widest eyes he had ever seen), but you had only nodded at him politely and skittered away to look at some of the ukuleles he had just put on display. 

 He didn’t think much of it. Maybe you were shy, or maybe you couldn’t speak. He didn’t want to make any assumptions, so he just carried on with his business and rang you up for the Demi Lovato CD you bought, giving you the usual speech on the music classes and membership opportunities the store offered. You had smiled, nodded yet again, and then went on your way silently. 

That had been a year ago, and since then you had been coming into the shop at least once a week, but nary a word had been said to him. 

It only somewhat drove him crazy. For a while he believed that perhaps you couldn’t speak, but then he heard you ask his brother a question about the piano classes that the shop offered. 

So you could speak, you just didn’t want to speak to him. Great. 

His best friend had a theory that it was because you were his soulmate, but Yoongi didn’t think that could be true even though he had never seen your mark. You had bought two Kanye West records in the last year, and when he’d asked if you enjoyed Kanye’s music you had looked up at him a little scared and nodded hurriedly before darting out of the shop. 

Still not a word though. 

It was strange, but Yoongi had decided not to dwell on it any longer. You clearly didn’t want to speak to him for some reason, but you were polite enough and always bought something from the store — whether it was a record, sheet music, a CD, or some of the local band merch that filtered through every now and then. 

You were a loyal customer, just … a quiet one. Fine by him. 

“Dude, let it go,” Yoongi muttered to his friend as she continued to stare at him like he ought to do something drastic with this information that you were once again at the store. “And leave her alone, too. She doesn’t need the likes of you bothering her to talk to me.”

“The likes of me?” his friend shouted incredulously. “Brat. Anyways, I still think you should go say hello to her. She’s always watching you when you’re not looking. And not in a stalker way, but a cute, infatuated way. Go say hi.”

“Go man the register.”

“Ugh, fine!”

He couldn’t help but chuckle as his friend left with a dramatic huff. A minute or two passed and he finally finished reorganizing the section, heading around the corner to grab a box of some new records to stock.

Then he saw you.

He couldn’t help but stop dead in his tracks. You hadn’t seem him yet, instead looking down at the new piano that had just come into the store yesterday. Your mouth was slightly open as you ran your fingertips over the keys almost … reverently. Your eyes were bright with wonder and Yoongi felt like the breath had been knocked out of him at the sight. 

It was a damn shame that he didn’t think you were his soulmate. 

He swallowed, licking his suddenly dry lips as he readied himself to speak to you. 

***

“That just came in yesterday.”

You jumped at Yoongi’s familiar voice, yanking your hand back from the keys of the absolutely stunning piano. You looked over, swallowing thickly as you took in his appearance.

He always looked good and today was of course no different. He had dyed his hair blonde a few months ago, and his roots had started to come in, but that only added to his semi-grunge look. Ripped jeans and a cuddle-worthy brown sweater donned his slim frame, and you somehow managed not to ogle him like a total creeper. 

You then remembered that he had just spoken to you in that low, smooth voice of his and was probably expecting you to respond somehow. 

You smiled at him briefly before turning back to the piano to admire it. It really was beautiful.

“It’s a Bechstein,” he continued, sounding almost … nervous? “Twelve years used, but it’s in great condition. One of our regulars had it passed down in his family and decided to let us have it for half the selling the price. It’s no Steinway, but … it’s damn nice. I almost hope nobody buys it anytime soon.”

You couldn’t help but hum in agreement, wanting to reach back out to the beautiful black and white keys but knowing that you weren’t supposed to play the instruments without express permission from the store staff.

You’d been coming to the store for a year now to shamelessly creep on your soulmate, you definitely knew the ins and outs of the store by now. 

It was getting downright ridiculous the way that you were refusing to speak to your soulmate. Your roommate was going insane about it, even more so since she met her soulmate, Taehyung. She and the famous singer had almost killed each other upon first meeting, but they were head over heels for each other soon thereafter, which meant she was insistent on you speaking to yours so you could have the same kind of relationship. 

But you were painfully afraid. Yoongi had said the words on your mark to him a year ago and you still had not said whatever words were on his wrist — words that you refused to try and get a peek of. 

“Do you play?”

It took you a minute to register that Yoongi had just asked you a question. You met his piercing eyes, almost melting at his soft smile. You swallowed and nodded. 

“I figured,” he said softly, moving slightly closer to you. You raised an eyebrow at him as if to ask ‘how?’ “The way you looked at it. Like you could already hear the notes you wanted to play.”

Your heart stuttered. 

Say something you idiot, you thought to yourself. He’s your soulmate and you’re pussyfooting around as if he isn’t. 

You opened your mouth to say something — what, you didn’t know — and Yoongi’s eyes widened. 

And nothing came out. Fear gripped your vocal cords and you huffed, turning back to the piano in frustration. What was wrong with you?

 You heard Yoongi sigh in disappointment and all you wanted to do was run out of the store. You were just about to to do that when he spoke up again. 

“Do you … want to play something?”

You looked up at him in shock. He was offering to let you play the Bechstein? There had been both a Bechstein and a Steinway for you to play on at the arts conservatory you attended as a teenager, but ever since then you hadn’t had a chance to play on anything other than your Yamaha. It was nice, but … it was no Bechstein. 

Yoongi laughed as you nodded frantically. He gestured for you to sit and you took a deep breath, steeling yourself to focus on the piano and not your soulmate watching you. 

The first touch of the keys had the rest of the world disappearing — Yoongi, the shop, your worries, everything. 

Your fingers drifted over the keys with a honed elegance that only a lifetime of practice and love for the piano could create. 

It was a piece you knew like the back of your hand — a piece you had written, actually. The notes ebbed and flowed, painting a melodious picture of your life. You played the sounds of your mother’s love and dedication for you, you played the anxieties of high school and the competitiveness of your music program, you played the joy of teaching your students, you played late nights with your roommate laughing about the most random things together, you played the feeling of Yoongi saying the words on your wrist to you, you played your fear of revealing yourself as his soulmate and facing rejection, you played your very soul. 

As the last note finally rang out, you opened your eyes, your lashes fluttering as you crashed back into reality. 

You heard a few random customers and Yoongi’s chatty employee clapping and whistling and you couldn’t help but grin and turn around, bowing your head in thanks. You turned back to look at Yoongi, only to catch sight of him staring intently at your hands that were still lingering on the piano. 

Or more specifically, staring at your left wrist. 

Somewhere in the middle of all of playing, your long sleeve had ridden up your forearm, revealing your mark. And from where he stood over you, Yoongi could see the last half of the words in black ink. 

‘ … Agust D’s Records, I’m Yoongi.’

You froze. All of the warmth that came from playing the piano before you vanished as you took in the expression of complete and utter shock on Yoongi’s face. 

“That’s …” he mumbled, blinking rapidly. “That’s my name.”

You weren’t sure you were breathing. He finally looked up, meeting your eyes.

“Am I …” he trailed off, staring at you like it was the first time he’d ever seen you. Between your performance that had felt like it was literally tugging on his soul, to now knowing that you actually were his soulmate after all … “Am I your—”

“I’ve actually never listened to Kanye West,” you blurted out so quickly all the words slurred together. 

Once those words were out, it was like a dam had broken. 

“I got my mark just over a year ago,” you continued, the word vomit spilling out of you. “It told me where you worked and your name a-and I was so scared at first but then I told myself it would be fine so I came to meet you, but then I saw you and I — I completely panicked. I froze up, I was afraid you would reject me o-or something and so I just didn’t say anything. But then I couldn’t stay away and so I just kept coming back, but then I dug myself into too deep of a hole and didn’t know how to bring up the fact that ‘hey, surprise, I’m your soulmate and I’ve been semi-stalking you for a while?’ Not that I actually have! I swear, the only time I see you is here in the store.”

You stood up them, fidgeting with your fingers as Yoongi continued to stare at you in silence. 

“But I had to have some sort of reason to keep coming back, because I just felt wrong when I stayed away, so I would come in and buy something. And I saw that on the ‘staff recommended’ shelf there was always some Kanye West album and truthfully, I’m not that into rap music but I figured I would try since you seem to like him, but I never got around to it even though I bought like three of his albums. And I know you probably think I’m completely deranged and you’re probably right, but I just — I get really nervous, you know? And you’re so nice and yet we seem really different, so I was afraid that you—”

“Stop.”

You froze, your mouth open as Yoongi cut you off quietly, holding his hand up. 

Here it comes, you thought to yourself. He’s going to tell me I’m completely insane and to get the hell out of his store. Well, it’s been a good run I guess. 

But Yoongi didn’t do that at all. 

Instead, he took three calculated, slow steps forward until he was right in front of you, almost chest-to-chest. You held your breath, unable to look away from his eyes. 

He raised his hands, placing his palms on your cheeks. 

“Your voice,” he murmured, “is beautiful.”

Oh. 

“I … I’m sorry it took me so long to say something,” you stammered out softly, feeling a whole new spectrum of emotions as he looked deep into your eyes. 

Yoongi smiled then, a gummy, broad smile that knocked the breath right out of your chest. 

“Don’t be. Our ripples crossed right when they needed to.”

You blinked, hands reaching out to rest on his chest. “I’ll be honest, I … don’t really understand that metaphor.”

“I’ll explain it later. I know we just officially found each other, but can I kiss you? Please?”

You smiled broadly, and it didn’t bother Yoongi at all that you nodded instead of speaking.