#sonyeondone writes

[sonyeondone]

Follow the Sound

피리소릴 따라와 - PT2

________________

Main: Female Reader x Jeon Jungkook

A/N: Anyone that knew of Jeon Jungkook knew the reputation that preceded him; somehow, someway, those who crossed his path in a most promiscuous way were never the same.

Unfortunately, she did not know of Jeon Jungkook.

Series Warnings: Violence, Sexual Reference, Alcoholism, Angst

PT1 / PT2

________________

Time didn’t really feel as fast as it was. Already she was six days past her 2am introduction with Jeon Jungkook. Six days felt like six hours, as his gaze lingered, gripping around her heart and steadily squeezing it tighter when she thought about him.

Within those six days, her embarrassment only grew, and blossomed into anger. It was the sort that turned her cheeks pink and set them ablaze, as she wondered how she could possibly find herself so intrigued in a well known deviant, who according to stories had no shame in being so. He was proud of promiscuity, wearing it like a badge upon his person.

Her resolve on the matter, though still pondering the situation, was that she would not let herself be so easily taken by him-or anyone- again. His ability to render her vulnerable and entranced was pathetic, and she vowed she would not let it happen again.

“It wasn’t even that bad, you just looked really surprised, like this,” Euna assured, momentarily emerging from their bathroom to demonstrate, and then backtracking to brush her hair.

“I don’t think I’ll ever not be mad at myself for looking like a fool,” Honey protested, in a slump as her eyes raked over the city through the window. “I know that I’ll be married, with kids one day, and I’ll be going to bed after a long day, and as I turn off the light, and start to drift off, I’ll think of that night. I’ll think of it and still feel embarrassed by it, and I won’t be able to sleep all night because of it,” she continued resting her head on her knees and watching Euna get ready for the day.

“Hey, I still think about when I was 14 and I threw up in the middle of class because mum had made me go to school.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because if it is it’s doing a terrible job.”

“No. It’s supposed to let you know that even though we all embarrass ourselves sometimes, we get over it. We keep living. We don’t dwell on boys who are no good and have probably already forgotten us by now. I’m telling you, Jeon Jungkook probably roped in the first girl he saw once he got into that club.”

Deep down, she knew Euna was right. Jeon had probably made his mark on that many people in the night club that night, she wouldn’t be a passing thought after they left one another’s sight. Surely he had moved well and truly on, and she should do the same.

Euna was only half right.

__________________

What the two girls had not seen, after their departure from Jungkook, was the way he smiled when they turned and left, his eyes tracing their figures into his mind. He could tell that the taller of the two, Euna, had heard of him. He’d noticed the micro expressions that changed within her face, after looking him up and down. She would not be an easy target. Her friend, however, was another story entirely. They had not played witness to the laugh he gave to himself, low and almost inaudible, turning on his heel and making his way to the night club, passing all those waiting as he did.

“I know that look. You’ve found another hunt, haven’t you?” asked the man who stood beside Jungkook at the railing of the second story balcony, peering down into the mess and controlled chaos in the first level of the club.

“I think I have. Won’t be easy, she seems to be a little strong in mentality. She didn’t make any effort to spend anymore time with me, plus I think her friend knows who I am.”

“Ah, so it’s a she? You’ve had a real thing for hunting ladies recently, haven’t you?”

“Don’t let David here you say that,” Jungkook nudged his friend and they both gave a genuine laugh.

“Ah yeah, I forgot about him. The guy living in Romania, right? That was a little while ago though, you haven’t had an actual hunt since. Just small...’flings’ here and there.”

“Have you ever thought that rather focusing on hunting, I was more concerned with getting my brother to come out and actually start hunting himself, Taehyung?”

Taehyung pondered this question, looking Jungkook in the eyes steadily and trying to determine if there was any sense of reality in what he said.

“Mmmm.... no. I don’t think you were. I just think you weren’t getting the feeling of a hunt for some time. Besides, I don’t hunt, I tempt. My way of getting people to fall isn’t nearly as aggressive as yours.” Taehyung really had a point, and it had Jungkook’s nose scrunching and his eyebrows pulled together, looking down into the bottom of his glass and sighing.

“Yeah, well it’s not as aggressive and Yoongi’s way of doing things,” he spoke in a murmur. Anyone listening to the conversation with wayward ears wouldn’t have been able to hear his words over the booking of the speakers. Taehyung, however, was not anyone, and knew exactly what he said, standing up tall and letting his eyes drift from Jungkook at the slight mention of their other brother.

“So you’ve seen them? The riots and the fighting?”

“Of course I have. I pay attention to the news. Or...at least I pay attention to Hoseok and Namjoon paying attention to the news. It’s the only real indication of knowing where he is.”

The discussion felt heavy on their chests. Certainly not the chat intended for a night club, but by this point the club had become white noise and they were not listening.

“I wonder how he must feel. Probably tearing himself apart about it all.” Taehyung’s face held a softness, the thought of Yoongi being painful and numbing all at the same time.

Jungkook, however, could not wait to move on from it. He wouldn’t waste his night talking about his abandonment issues that came with a brother leaving.

“It’s his fault for not accepting what he is. What we all are. He up and left without telling anyone except Jin. I’m not about to feel sorry for him,” the end of Jungkook’s sentence was given a full stop in the form of finishing his drink, and giving a breathy sigh. His lips suddenly curled into a smile, letting their worries and deep feelings be drowned out by the clubs blaring sound system.

“Anyway, I see some people over there I am dying to get to know. Maybe you can watch and learn, get some pointers in the whole human temptation department?”

Jungkook was rewarded with a shove from Taehyung, playful vibes coursing through their bodies now, the brothers both ready for a night of self-pleasure in very non-usual ways.

“Just remember I’m older than you. You may have a bit to learn from me,” Taehyung warmed, poking into the younger’s shoulder and joining him in the walk into the dance floor.

There was only a nod, as Jungkook’s mind had already drifted back to the girl in the street. His thoughts were stuck on her, even six days after their encounter. It had begun. The obsession, the need. The hunger. It took over his body and he was ready for it. He was ready to hunt.

[huachengslastbraincell]

Doctor: Name?

Jungkook: Jeon Jungkook.

Doctor: Sex?

Jungkook: I swear I'm doing my best out there.

Doctor: I meant male or female.

Jungkook: Oh.

Jungkook: Jimin.

[jinniejohns-blog]

Proof

Taehyung: No, seriously, I swear it's true! I just wasn't able to catch it on my phone in time!

Jungkook: Uh-huh, sure hyung.

Hoseok: No worries, Tae. I believe you. I actually had a similar thing happen to me, so I get where you're coming from.

Taehyung: Really hyung?

Hoseok: Yeah. I saw a leprechaun riding a unicorn under a rainbow that was only green. Just wasn't able to catch it on time. Tear.

Taehyung: .....Fuck you.

[sonyeondone]

Follow The Sound

피리소릴 따라와 ________________

Main: Female Reader x Jeon Jungkook

A/N: Anyone that knew of Jeon Jungkook knew the reputation that preceded him; somehow, someway, those who crossed his path in a most promiscuous way were never the same. 

Unfortunately, she did not know of Jeon Jungkook.

Series Warnings: Violence, Sexual Reference, Alcoholism, Angst

________________

Music, she thought to herself, surely wasn’t supposed to be enjoyed at such a loud volume. Nightclubs and similar venues always seemed to play music as if their intentions were to drown out any conversation, and thus force the masses to fill the dance floor. Perhaps that was just it; club music wasn’t meant to be enjoyed, it was meant to be utilized. 

Utilized it was, so much so that she felt herself jostled around between the bodies of others who, like her, just wanted a good night. The most apparent commonality in the crowd was the wish of a night to disappear. A night of non-existence. This is what she wanted, at any rate. A tug could be felt on her arm, her eyes which had previously been closed with the swaying of her head opening to find Euna, her biggest influence and possibly her closest friend, at a proximity that could almost be called intimate. 

 ��I’m getting really hot, Honey” was all she could manage to shout across the closed distance, the rest of the sentence left unsaid, and rather iterated by her pointing to the exit door, the affectionate nickname Euna had dubbed her being tacked on the end. A nod and an outstretched hand passed across the given reply, and the two girls took hands and made the rough journey through the perspiring bodies and carefree souls. 

Bursting through the door that resembled more of a hole in the wall, the two let the cold night air settle into their lungs, a welcomed change from the sweat that clung to the air inside.

“Thank god- you know, I was started to feel a hand creeping up on my shoulder and knew that it was time for a break,” Euna lamented as her dainty fingers dove into her purse.  “I could tell, the guy behind you had a very....steady stare. Almost like his eyes were glued to you,” Honey agreed, as her eyes swept over the ever lengthy line of individuals still wishing to get between the moving bodies in NB2.  The two girls made distance between the club and themselves, letting the wind lift their hair and soothe their skin.  “I haven’t even drunk that much but I feel a bit-”  “Dizzy? Yeah, I think you got a bit heavy on the cojinganmek,” Euna finished her best friend’s sentence with the ease only a best friend could manage.  “Mixing drinks isn’t supposed to be all too good for you. I couldn’t help it though, they were nice, and I don’t usually like beer.” Euna only replied with a nod, and took Honey’s arm so that the two were linked elbow to elbow.  “Well, when we go back, no more. Just straight soju, keep it simple, okay?”

________________

With their bodies feeling newly refreshed and the time only reading 2am, Euna turned their brisk walk back toward the club, ready to re approach the mob of youthful party-goers. 

The dark night was not so dark thanks to the illumination of bright signs and the neon's adorning rows of shops, and signalling wayward nightlife into the warmth of their spaces. 

Yet, she and Euna’s sight didn’t seem to pierce the dark as they approached the club, just a turn away.

As they spoke to one another, their brief distraction was broken when Euna suddenly stopped, failing to alert her friend to the reason for doing so. Instead, Honey kept walking, and bumped into the broad and solid back of a stranger, tall and shadowed. 

Honey winced and recoiled, quickly taking several steps back and clinging to Euna out of sheer, hot embarrassment. The stranger made his turn to them as apologies spilled from her lips like a broken faucet.

“Oh my g- I am so sorry, I didn’t see you there, I should have been watching where I was going, and I just-” The string of words that unravelled from her mind was cut off by a deep, lighthearted laugh. Euna, who had quietly whispered for Honey to ‘stop rambling’, brightened up at the sound, a reaction quite polar to Honey’s own reaction. She was too enthralled with the source of the sound that stopped her thoughts from reeling. 

He was...

beautiful.

There was no other way for her to describe it. It was a beauty that could only be described as otherworldly. Men like him...they just didn’t exist.

Or, at least they hadn’t three metres back, when she was blissfully ignorant. Atop his head was a curled mess of rich, dark hair that glistened auburn in the neon behind him. That alone would have been perfect, a tantalising mixture of well kept and effortless, had the rest of him not been just as appealing to look at. But oh it was. She would have kept staring. She could have simply looked at him long into the night and the break of new morning.

Somehow, though, she was able to break from whatever bewitchment he had over her when he spoke- and subsequently reminded her of her best friend still cradling her arm. Honey flicked a quick glance at Euna, who, judging by the subtle shock that graced her face, shared the same train of thought.

“That’s okay. Honey, was it?” he queried, his eyebrows pulled into a frown of question, as he gestured to her before resting his hands on his impossibly slim waist. It was a waist curved in such a way that almost gave him the illusion of being spindly, had it not been for the stretch and strain of his shirt over his biceps. 

“Oh, actually, that’s just a nickname, Euna calls me,” she clarified, acknowledging the girl on her arm, then offering up her given name.

He nodded thoughtfully as if mulling the information in his mind, letting the slight pause linger on his tongue before speaking again.

“Well, are you two headed to NB2? It seems like there’s quite the line.”

Honey’s voice paused in her throat.He was a stranger. Should she be divulging this information to him?

No matter how absolutely gorgeous he was, no matter how impossibly breathtaking his frosted white smile was in the shadow that clung to him, he was still a stranger, and strangers were notorious for bringing danger when not fully acquainted. Before an answer could be evaluated on her own end, Euna’s voice cut the space between them through a cordial smile.

“Actually, we just came from there, we’re on our way home.”Her response was swift and calculated, and Honey decided it was only right to go along with it.

“Yeah, it’s a little bit of a journey,” she added, hoping her embellishment would sell the story.

“Well, that’s too bad,” the perfect stranger started, clicking his tongue. Just as quickly as it had come, his expression passed and was replaced with something Honey could only describe as tempting. “Maybe we’ll bump into one another again, sometime.”Euna nodded with an eagerness, that one could possibly misinterpret as the same hope for a reuniting.

Her best friend knew better.

________________

“So...who was the guy? You obviously knew him, you couldn’t get away from him quick enough.”

The question, expected and uncomfortable in Euna’s chest, was kept without reply for a beat or two, before she sucked in a deep breath. The two of them were resting on the one bed, unwinding after a short trip home filled with avoidance and apprehension of this very subject.

“I didn’t realise it at first, but the more I looked at him, the more he seemed familiar. His name is Jeon Jungkook, and he is, from what I’ve heard, nothing but bad news. And I’ve heard a lot.”

“What do you mean, ‘bad news’. Like...like drug lords and gang member bad?” 

“No, not quite. Might as well be though. He can’t keep his hands on one person for very long. Whoever he touches just...disappears. Obviously not literally, but their life just seems to deteriorate. I knew a girl- one minute she was just talking about a boy she’d met who was really kind and charming, Jungkook obviously, and the next she’s dropped out of a course she’s getting high marks in and loves. Last I heard of her, she was kicked out of home, but I can’t be sure because I lost contact with her.”

Honey turned over Euna’s words in her head, surprise and horror painting her features. 

“All because she slept with him?”

“Yep. Probably started before that, even. Maybe when she first looked at him.”

Euna shook her head slightly and sighed. “Everyone I’ve ever heard of getting with him has their life just crash and burn. It’s his reputation. People know this, it isn’t a secret. And yet, somehow, for some reason, people still risk it. Still sleep with him. It’s just...I don’t know, it’s not worth it. It’s stupid.”

“Yeah,” Honey nodded, digesting everything she’d heard over the span of five minutes. Overlaying those words onto the image of him-

Jeon Jungkook

- that was now brandished across her memory.

“Stupid.”

[sonyeondone]

Follow The Sound

STORY MOODBOARD

“He never keeps his hands on one person for too long. Everyone he touches just disappears.

He’s bad news...”

[sonyeondone]

Can You Hear Me?

SERIES

PART 2

Characters: Jeon Jungkook x Female Reader

PT1 / PT2 / PT3

The only thing he could make out in his ears, was his blood pounding  and rushing behind them, with a touch of her.

It was overwhelming, to say the very least. He felt as if he was going to hit the ground any moment, the world spinning before him in a sickly manor. A feeling, as if the air had been stolen from him, wrenched at his lungs and sent his brain into a frenzy as it searched for his missing breath. It panicked, it forced a wheezed and strained gasping on his chest, one that had those around him wincing in horror that the human body could sound so helpless.

He was terrified. It was all he could hear; blood, and her.

He could make her out, distant, fuzzy and just out of grasp, like the white noise of a radio station, just too far to reach.

She was telling him to sit down.

Across oceans, lands and everything between, her own heart squeezed uncomfortably within the confines of her chest, and she clutched at it, confusion painting her features.

Jungkook, are you okay? the thought pressed on in her mind, repeating like a mantra in the hopes he’d hear it.

She began in his mother tongue, hoping that would push the question further, penetrating his mind and showing him her concern, 괜찮아? 괜찮아?

When there was no response, her focus turned to his feelings, what she could hear from his thoughts and his mind. There was a high pitched humming, as if the world was a blur. His mind relayed the sounds of his shallow breathing, and she assumed, from all the little evidence she could gather, that he was on the verge of falling unconscious.

Jungkook you have to sit down, 앉아요 she cooed, you’ve overworked yourself, 피곤한.

Silence, for what sounded like an eternity.

She sat at a table within a shopping complex, being unable to use her legs as she was riddled with questions and the lingering worry that seeped from her heart now into her bones. Her arms ached from the weight of her purchases and her heart ached for his current circumstances. What could he have possibly done to have him in the state he was in?

He likes to dance, but surely he wouldn’t push himself that hard would he?

Nothing but silence, until....

I am okay

아주 피곤해

The breath she’d been holding was released slowly, painfully, as she registered his words. He was more than ‘very tired’ she could tell by the feeling that rattled inside her, presumably shared by himself. He was exhausted. And yet he’d only brush it off lightly as being ‘tired’.

Jungkook, you will be the death of me, I swear. You will kill me.

Her thoughts were met only with a laugh, and she knew he understood. Her tone made it perfectly clear. Jeon Jungkook, as much as he was a pain and a nuisance, was strong, and kind, even if it meant waving away his own grievances to alleviate the worries of others.  Sometimes, she forgot he was her soulmate, and fell in love with him all again, regardless. 

“So have you been speaking to your soulmate much recently? Jungkook?”  The question, while seemingly out of the blue, lingered off her friend’s tongue as if it had been resting there for some time, wanting to be asked but never finding the moment. A simple nod and smile was all that was delivered in return by her, her mouth otherwise occupied by their shared cake slice. “I assumed as much, I noticed you’d downloaded a language learning app on your phone and the last time you did that was when you two were talking often enough for it to be necessary”.  Emilia, was every bit smart as she was creative and delightfully funny. If Jungkook wasn’t in the picture, or more so her mind, she could have possibly fallen for her best friend. It wasn’t so hard to do, and she certainly wouldn’t have been the first, nor last to let their hearts be so easily stolen by Emilia or her smile. 

“He’s been pushing himself to some sort of breaking point, or at least, I think he has. He was so dizzy the other day, it almost took over my body as well, I had to sit down,” she elaborated on her friend’s personal theory, while setting down her fork and leaning upon her hand. Her words were borne out of thought and memory, both of which snatched her attentions away as soon as her reply left her mouth. 

“He still dances, doesn’t he?” “Mhm”. “Is it professional dancing?” She hesitated. A good question, to be sure, and the answer she could not be sure of. She thought maybe he did, why else would he push himself so hard? But he also sang, and rightly so. A voice like his would be wasted if not shared with the world. She’d even been present as some of his songs had been written, words fading in and out of her mind, scribbled onto notebooks in hotel rooms by his furious hands that wanted to grasp the sentences before they disappeared. They were always so beautiful. Yet she’d only ever heard one song that was near completion; the rest were snippets and samples of a song she’d never hear finished. As much as she knew about him, there was just as much she didn’t, and the songs he created were one of the mysteries he kept. 

“Well? I mean, if it isn’t professional then he must be super intense with his passions,” Emilia repeated, not receiving an answer the first time.  “Seems to be that way. That’s nice, someone who knows what they want to do, or where they’re going”. “And yet you’ve never heard one of his songs?”

Sometimes you wondered if she was in your mind as well, lurking and listening.

“Nope. I will one day, I’m sure. I mean, I’ll have to, once we find each other”.

“And how’s that coming along?”

“It’s going alright, I’ve nearly got all the money I need to get there. I just...don’t know where to start. I mean, I suppose Seoul would be a good place to start, but...he could be anywhere”.

“Where was he last time he told you?” 

“He lived in Busan, I think. He mentioned it once. He also mentioned Seoul too, something about moving there. But Seoul is so big, I don’t know all that much about it. He’s only just become recent, often”.

Emilia thought to herself for some time, considering the obstacles that presented themselves in the given situation. “Well, there could be quite a few people with the name ‘Jungkook’ living in Korea, and you don’t have his number or anything, considering thoughts are shared sporadically”.

“I don’t know his last name, either. We’re on a strictly first name basis, made that way only by said sporadic hearing of thoughts,” she added in a grumble, disheartened by the bleak outlook of the situation. Since when was finding soulmates supposed to be so hard?

“Well, you’ve got your work cut out for you, that’s for sure. Why have someone in your head listening to your thoughts every now and again if you can’t easily meet them face to face?”

Again, she wondered if Emilia was inside her head too.

[sonyeondone]

Mute Devotion

SERIES

pt1 // pt2

Characters: Min Yoongi x Reader  A/N: Au! You don’t hear music until you fall in love 

‘You’re the panadol I need, you heal something.’

Days morphed into weeks, time flowing faster than surely imaginable. Maybe it could all be blamed on the mere fact that Yoongi was now 24 years old and the world seemed to be moving ahead of him, always one step in front. Tugging within had him feeling like he would forever be reaching for something he couldn’t quite grasp, and it terrified him beyond no means. 

“Yah, you worry too much! You seem to be doing well at the moment. Didn’t you get asked to help compose a song with a well known singer?” Hoseok inquired, bringing his cup to his lips, downing a sip of comfortingly warm coffee. Within Hoseok’s eyes, the stars, Yoongi always seemed to think. It partially irritated Yoongi, as he was envious that even so early in the morning, the universe could be captured within one man. Hoseok was everything Yoongi wanted to be. Hoseok was everything Yoongi needed to keep him on the straight path of morality, with some motivation thrown in. 

“Yeah, but they asked me to help, Hobi. As if I can’t be trusted on my own to compose even just one song. And we can both pretend that it’s not because I can’t hear the music, but it most definitely is. I can’t help but feel like, if I had fallen in love, by now I would be composing and producing entire albums. I hate that I have to find someone out there, fall in love and go through all those emotions just to be able to fulfill my dream. Almost like someone is holding me back,” Yoongi nonchalantly poured the thoughts of his heart out to the man across the table, his eyes lazily wandering outside the window. It’s something he seemed to do a lot, and by now Hoseok knew that it was a sign of the deeper workings of his brain, and that although his words had ended, his thoughts on them had not. 

“You see it that way? I don’t,” Hobi began, his eyes widening before setting down his drink and leaning on his palms, his own gaze travelling upward, as if his thoughts had materialized before him. “I see it as you being held back from music so that when you do find the one, you have someone to share it with. Finally hearing something that’s supposed to be so life changing is made even better when it’s shared with someone you love,” he concluded, nodding and smiling, content with the wording of his answer and having successfully put his point across to a degree of his own satisfaction. His smile was absolute and soft, much like the rest of his personality. 

“Maybe you’re right,” Yoongi could only shrug, unable to conjure up the right response to such a positively charged viewpoint. He didn’t have the heart to shut it down completely, to disagree and let his annoyance fall freely from his lips. Instead, he opened himself up to the idea. And it was true; maybe Hoseok was right. Maybe life was funny like that. All Yoongi could do was hope, because his patience was wearing thin.

“Anyway, I’m finished. Will we head to the studio? I was hoping you could help me with more of my mixtape,” Hoseok’s pride radiated from him indefinitely at the mention of his own mixtape. Despite he himself also being unable to hear the melody’s or the beats, Yoongi was teaching Hoseok to feel them just as he did. Partnered with the ability to become excited at almost all things life had to offer, you get an eager and enthusiastic Jung Hoseok, who was in the midst of producing a hip hop mix tape. 

Yoongi had found an outlet to help him bridge the gap between not hearing and only feeling, and it was rap. Even if he couldn’t hear the sounds behind his own voice, the vibrations that came from his headphones and speakers alerted him to the alignment of his words with the bass. He could hear himself rap, and in a way it almost made him feel like he could hear music. Yet, a computer is different to a piano, and even the great pianist Min Yoongi needed help with his music. While it was a great chance to meet others that were more than prepared to guide him into the world of music, they were never enough to bring him the clarity he needed.

“Don’t you think it should go ‘I’m here to give you Hope, I know that’s what you need’, rather than ‘I’m here to bring the Hope, what you all need in life’? You could be using it as a duality, as in hope in life and hope as in J-Hope,” Yoongi suggested with hands tucked away into his pockets and eyes cast toward the sky. 

“Ah, you’re right, that would make sense!” Hoseok warmed to the idea in a flash, and he quickly typed the change in sentence down on his phone. He was too busy looking down, as was the figure coming toward him, to notice the oncoming collision. Yoongi was simply in his own world as usual.

“Wah!” Hoseok exclaimed, both he and the stranger jumping back simultaneously after having bumped directly into one another. 

“I’m sorry! I was so lost in my mind that I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she apologized, her eyes swimming with genuine sincerity. Hoseok simply beamed, shaking his head and laughing at his own partial clumsiness. 

“Ah, I wasn’t watching where I was going either, so not one of us was to blame! I’m sorry too, I hope you have a good day!”

Yoongi could feel the charm shining from every part of Hoseok, and understood completely why the girl he’d bumped into would smile so wide at his words, even going slightly red at the kindness Hoseok delivered. But Yoongi focused on none of them in great detail, because he was more concerned with the fact that he knew her. 

It was the girl that had stopped in the park all those weeks ago, watching him play under the falling petals of Autumn. He had now completely turned to Hoseok and the stranger, who laughed off their bump and were now departing. He took her in, all of her, as she once again walked away from him. She had been clutching something, papers of sorts, and was fully enveloped in them, so much so that she’d bumped into his friend. 

“Whoops,” Hoseok laughed, as he continued down the path to stand beside Yoongi, his tall and lanky figure cowering slightly in embarrassment. Yet Yoongi was still fixed onto her diminishing figure as it gained distance from him, and was oblivious to the faces Hoseok made. Hoseok looked from Yoongi to the girl, to Yoongi again, and frowned. “Did you know her? Why didn’t you say hello?” Confusion painted his features, as he too joined in looking toward her direction of exit.

“Ah, no, I didn’t know her. I saw her at Couple’s Walk not so long ago, while I was playing there, she was watching.”

“Perhaps she’s a listener, she might have heard your music. I’m sure she enjoyed it,” Hobi assured, and Yoongi nodded, not paying all too much attention for the moment. As his body was at the ready, turning to take the opposite path, something caught Yoongi’s eye, and his sight fell on something on the ground. A paper, or rather, a photograph it seemed, left behind and now abandoned on the sidewalk.

The girl must have dropped it in the clash with Hoseok, and it now fluttered on the ground as if calling for his attention, begging him to pick it up. It looked similar to the papers she had been holding, and Yoongi could only assume.  Natural curiosity got the best of him and he walked to it, scooping it up off the ground and studying it.

“Aish, she must have dropped that when I bumped into her! Oh no, what if she needs that?” Hoseok panicked, rushing to Yoongi’s side after having realized what he was drawn to. As he peered over Yoongi’s shoulder, he let out a slow sound of amazement, the image taking him back slightly. it was the park, Couple’s Walk, as Yoongi could tell by the flowers. They, and the trees that covered the space of the small quality paper were taken from a low angle, that made them look as if they expanded far beyond the eyes range, filling the skies and the land with beautiful colours all different, yet so harmonious. It was sharp, clear, and bright, and undeniably one of the most gorgeous photos both boys had ever seen. 

Yoongi wondered if this is what love was. Seeing the world so remarkably, and finding a way to make it last forever. He certainly felt as if he’d fallen in love with the scene, for it seemed so different to how he had viewed the place. His attentions had been stuck to the piano the entire time, and while he looked, he did not see; at least, not nearly as well as she did.

“That’s brilliant!” Hobi whispered, tugging on Yoongi’s arm. “Come on, take it with us, she might go back to Couple’s walk one day and you can return it.”

“Yeah, yeah I will,” Yoongi agreed, eyes glued to the image as if he’d been trapped by it’s beguiling delicacy. He carefully stowed it away in his wallet, and took one final glance in the direction that the girl had disappeared. He knew she must have been in love, now, to be able to capture such pureness of the world; to have the ability to share with others the world in which she lived, and Yoongi wished he did too, to be able to see everything so splendidly. 

He turned on his heel and joined Hoseok in his pace of stride, as the two of them fell back into conversation as if nothing had happened, walking away with the picture in his back pocket, in his wallet where it would stay, keeping with him a little piece of beauty.

He had no intentions of returning it.

[sonyeondone]

Mute Devotion

SERIES

pt1

Characters: Min Yoongi x Reader A/N: Au! You don’t hear music until you fall in love

It’s been a long time since I actually posted anything, and this has been sitting in my drafts for the longest time. I recently had something bad happen to me so the only way I felt I could at least hold myself together was with some much needed Yoongi fluff (something tells me it’ll turn into angst though, so just beware). It’s not great, I’m trying to get back into my writing, but it’s something, so here you go. 

‘You make me feel something. You make me hear something.’

Piano was his pastime, the one thing that kept him grounded. 

His reasons, while of beauty and heartfelt selflessness, were all the while melancholic. They echoed of a boy who had no hope in himself, so he thrived when putting it into the world. What he couldn’t give himself, he would give others; in regards to hope, and music.

Truth be told, Min Yoongi could not hear a single note he ever played. He couldn’t hear the wonders he created with his fingers upon ivory and pitch black keys. He could only feel them, as if an extension of his own soul. At first, he’d learnt when he was a child. The vibration of a single note sent shivers up his spine, as if it were meant to be. His teacher, a man who had happily been married for a sum of 38 years, was familiar to the chime and the voice of a piano, finding himself rather impressed with Yoongi’s musical ability, despite his own obliviousness. 

Today was no different from the last day, or the one that came before. Sitting in a park gazebo, adorned with flowers of the spring, and a lovely public piano that had been maintained by the community. In a world where music was the representation of love, anything that produced such a blessing was treasured. 

Couples walked past, to and fro, slowly trailing across the path of fine stones, admiring the lush green of the grass and the sweet melody of Yoongi’s talent. They could all hear him, and he couldn’t even hear himself. Sometimes, he would envy them. Purely because he wished to be able to hear what others could, and hated being clueless and deprived. Other times, it would bother him little, or not at all. Because as long as he felt the music, as long as his muscles reacted when he pressed the piano keys, he was fine. 

As a young child, Yoongi had always found confusion in the workings of love. Why couldn’t platonic or family love constitute as a deep enough emotion? He was certain he loved his mother and father, yet no music would fill his ears. He knew he had fallen in love with the way piano made him feel, and he had been certain no person could ever make him feel a romantic love that rivaled that.

This park wasn’t called ‘Couple’s Walk’ for nothing. People holding hands, smiling, laughing. Couple culture was at it’s all time high it seemed. There were those who had come along to walk with their friends, and those who were alone, just as she was. She told herself that just because she was alone, it didn’t mean she was lonely. And she believed every word. There was no envy in her observations of her surroundings, only curiosity and a happiness for those who found love.

With her phone in hand, at the ready, she took photos of her surroundings, and marveled at the beauty. It was at times like these she became frustrated that her love for the world could not even allow music into her brain, because by god she was so in love with everything she saw. Flowers and petals that had fallen from the trees littered the park in beautiful pink and white spots. The trees, while becoming bare in Autumn’s arrival, were as mystical as ever. 

In the days where she was not required for work, she would do this often, at different parks, and different places. She’d never seen this park, however, and was stunned by the promise of new sights. The gravel crunched under her boots as she snuggled closed into her scarf, wide eyes drinking in everything they saw, while she continued to take picture after picture.

As she trailed up the path, she could see in the distance a gazebo, tall and white and bursting with the pinks of the neighboring flowers. The closer she got, she began to see him; inside, a man, clothed in a casual black pullover hood, and loose fitting jeans. The sight of him provided a stark contrast, the darkness of his attire in battle with the bright and alluring nature of the gazebo, and the fresh feel of the entire park. And yet, something in his features seemed to blend with the charm of his background. He was lost to the piano he played, his eyes half closed as he so obviously felt the notes in his soul. 

‘I wonder who he’s in love with,’ she wondered, noting how those who would walk past him, hand in hand with their lovers, would stop and admire his playing. He must have been good, because their awe and their fondness for his instrumental workings was evident. And there was no possibly way he could be deaf to the sound, if he attracted so many listeners. There was far too greater risk he would get it wrong. She thought it impossible to play an instrument unless struck by love. 

She was rooted in these thoughts and in turn, rooted to the spot, unaware that her eyes remained on him the whole time and she had stopped dead still before the gazebo.

He had finished. At least, the particular song he played. 

He cracked his fingers and stretched out, his body having almost petrified in it’s current state over the piano, sitting in the one position for so long his bones ached when moved. He allowed himself to look across the area, the trees, the larger areas of greenery and the flowers. Yoongi’s lungs inhaled the cold, crisp air and exhaled his busy thoughts, his fingers pushing through his blonde hair as if to further expel them. His mind was cluttered with so much, that sometimes he worried he couldn’t contain them all. Most of his thoughts were comprised of worry, and so this endless turn of worrying that he was worrying too much would surely one day eat him up alive. 

He wondered about his future. Leaning back and gazing at the piano, he queried whether he could ever make anything of himself, or steady himself in the world of music. Because that’s where he wanted to be. He wanted to perform; he wanted others to hear him even if he could not. He wished to express his feeling, translated into a language his ears could not pick up, only that of husbands and wives and partners and lovers. 

As these thoughts invaded his head again, another one sprung into existence. Rather, a feeling, that of being watched. It caused him to sit up straighter, and his line of sight turned to the path before the gazebo steps. 

She was wrapped up tight, combating the cold and clutching a phone, her eyes stuck to him as he closed himself into his own world. The moment their eyes met, she knew she had been caught staring. Much to her own embarrassment, she had not expected him to turn his eyesight so sharply, and find her looking at him. Moreso, she had not expected the deepness of his fixed stare, dark eyes sinking into her own from under a fray of blonde. It held such a severity that she was momentarily shocked, and was almost certain it showed on her face. 

Without letting herself linger on his form, she broke their contact as quickly as it had been started, and willed her feet to carry her away from the scene, her cheeks adopting a bright red glow in the awkwardness of her stares, cursing herself inwardly for such an encounter. 

He simply watched her walk away, wondering why she had been looking at him so long, and whether she had been listening to his music, or, whether she could hear it at all. Surely, she wouldn’t have stuck around had she not. There was no point in spending time for something you couldn’t experience. He soon shrugged it off as a strange moment between two strangers, but not before noting to himself;

‘I wonder who she’s in love with’.

[sonyeondone]

Mute Devotion

SERIES

pt1 // pt2 // pt3

Characters: Min Yoongi x Reader A/N: Au! You don’t hear music until you fall in love

‘The pieces fall into place like keys that beat notes into my heart.’

Would she be lying had she said she’d not seen him yesterday, standing behind her as she said her sorry’s to his companion?

Most certainly.

And would it be a lie had she said she’d not left as quickly as her legs would take her, as to avoid giving in to the growing pull that threatened to turn her around and make eye contact with him?

Of course.

She had surely noticed him there, and used all the willpower that was within her to no longer be there herself.

“AISH!” the sound came out harsh and drawn out, as hands sifted through scattered images frantically. There was the absence of a photograph within her messily placed pile, and of the 15 she’d printed, only 14 remained. She could only assume she’d dropped it on the way home from the printing shop, when she’d bumped into the tall, star-shine of a man. On any normal day, she’d have left it to the wind, never to be seen again. She had the digital copy and so there was no need for frustration for a lost piece of paper. 

Yet no longer than ten minutes later, there she was, her feet carrying her toward the print shop. Should she be true to herself, there was something about that particular image she had pride for. It was one of the best of the bunch, and so to lose it was to lose a vital part of the entire scene her series of photos had intended to convey. The stubbornness of her heart willed her legs onward, as she made the journey simply to print a singular image.

The cold breeze of winter surely chilled her to the bone, and she was eager to make the trip as quick and as painless as possible. All she needed to do was enter, get what she required and then get back to the warmth of a decent heating system. So why on earth, when the job was done and she was free to do exactly that, did her mind suggest a detour?

As she exited the print shop, her hands almost iced over and numbly pushing open the metal door, her mind gave her a thought, completely against her own best interest;

‘Why don’t I walk past Couple’s Walk?’

It was a thought she tried in vain to supress, and it kept nagging at her, even as she headed toward the direction of her home. Her eyes, as if in agreement with the thought, kept glancing in the way she’d have to walk to get to the enticing park. Her body screamed for the safety of heat, and yet her mind, and moreso, her heart, wanted another glimpse at the beauty that nature delivered. 

Or perhaps curiosity made a fool of her...

Regretful.

She was regretful and oh so cold.

She had not expected her own derailing of path, the unexpected turn of events, and so had not worn nearly enough clothes to combat the wind that blew her every which way. Somehow, she still persisted. She attempted to deny her eyes the chance to look up, because she knew that just at this next turn, the bright white of the gazebo would meet her, and she would not be caught staring at the man a second time, should he be there. And so the thought invaded the quiet space of her mind; ‘what if I’m only here because I wanted to see him?’

Absurd! She couldn’t be there just to see a stranger playing an instrument her ears couldn’t catch the frequency of. There was no appeal to seeing a man make something beautiful out of something so out of reach. Disobedient eyes could not be reasoned with, however, and they flicked to where he had been sitting only a few weeks prior, and where he was not sitting today. 

Deflation, was the only word that could describe the feeling in her stomach. It was akin to disappointment. Maybe it was the thrill of familiarity that had her wanting to see him there, knowing that she’d seen him before, and knowing that they’d recognized one another. Perhaps instead it was the depth of his concentration, pouring himself into an act it would take her some time -and someone- to actually be able to appreciate. All she saw was an empty piano seat and it’s lonely counterpart, the piano.

She had stopped still just as she did when he was there, and this time there was no risk of humiliation, no one to stare at or collide with. Only her, those who walked past, and the piano within the gazebo. Her fingers would hold no recognition for the keys, and her ears would not allow her the pleasure of it’s voice, but for some reason she could not find, before she could make sense of it herself, she was at the piano stool, her fingers hovering over the keys in hesitation and a fear of the unknown.

She sat in that position a total of seven minutes, just taking in the image of the foreigner before her, black and white and in pristine condition. She would not dare touch it, for the strange fear that it would bring judgement upon her, though an inanimate object. It almost felt sacred, love’s precious representation, not meant for the likes of her touch.

“You look as if the piano will bite you if you get to close.”

Deep, slow, and sudden was the voice that came from behind her. She’d been so lost in her moments with the piano that she’d not noticed the figure that had come up to stand behind her. Somehow, though a voice she’d never heard, she knew exactly who it belonged to. 

His abrupt appearance and straightforward words sent a red wash over her cheeks, and so she did not turn when expressing her reply.

“I’m almost scared it might,” she gave off a weak laugh as she let her fingertips gently rest on the keys, as to not push them hard enough to elicit sound. “I might get it wrong, and disrupt the poor couples enjoying the park,” her words continued, nodding as she spoke. 

To her shock, he moved to sit next to her on the piano stool, as if it were comfortable. She came to the conclusion that it was his intimacy with the instrument that caused him to do so, and that more than anything he longed for the proximity of it. 

His own fingers took no precaution in laying themselves over the keys, much unlike hers, and he played a tune she could not hear.

“Even if you don’t know how to play, you’ll hear when something is off,” he said through mumbles, as if he couldn’t be bothered speaking directly to her, his attentions all spent on playing. She simply let her hands slip to her lap, cradling one another as she focused on them only.

“Ah, yeah. It must be good to be able to hear it.”

“I wish I knew.”

Yoongi’s surprise was well hidden behind his blonde wisps and fixated eyes. 

So she couldn’t hear the piano, and she couldn’t make sense of the way he played.

With this newfound information, her lingering presence that first day their eyes had met perhaps made more sense than his initial assumptions. Instead of hearing his talents, she’d simply been fascinated as to what it was she was missing out on. Just as he was.

“You can’t hear it?!”

Her own surprise was not as securely concealed, and he could feel her eyes on him as he simply continued to play. He’d heard it all before, the shock laced voices that criticized his inability to hear, perhaps even thought it a lie.

“Nope. Never have,” the words simply rolled off his tongue further confusing the girl to his side.

“Then how do you play?” her voice rose in disbelief to his incredulous words and questionable thought pattern. Playing something he couldn’t hear? There was no possible way he’d be able to play with authenticity or even correctly for that matter!

With these words -words he’d heard often and many times before- he let his dark eyes settle on her. He looked her up and down, as if it would reveal more about her as a person, sat beside him and looking at him in awe. Looking into her eyes, he could only conjure up one answer, brought together with a shrug and an averted gaze back onto the piano keys.

“I feel it, I guess.”

[huachengslastbraincell]

Jungkook: I will now say to you what Jimin has always said to me-

Taehyung: “Don’t eat that, it’s decorative”?

[huachengslastbraincell]

Jin, wearing an apron and towel over his shoulder: Namjoon!

Hoseok, also wearing an apron: You’re home!

Namjoon: What.

Jimin, wiping down the kitchen counter: Hyung, we cleaned the house for you!

Yoongi, opening the oven: I made dinner.

Jungkook: We missed you!

Everyone: Welcome home!

Namjoon:

Namjoon: This is IKEA. We’re going to get kicked out.

[huachengslastbraincell]

Seokjin: What do you have?

Taehyung: A knife!

Seokjin: Okay, have fu-

Namjoon: NO

[sonyeondone]

Dichotomy

SERIES

pt1 // pt 2 // pt 3

Characters: Min Yoongi x Female Reader A/N: I want this series to be real angsty. So there’s that. I also don’t know how this is going to turn out because this has no forethought, I just had something I wanted to do and I’m building the whole fic around that secret concept. Third person. Hope you enjoy!

Sometimes their happiness was cast in the shadows of their differences...

47 Days

Tears.  Tears as thick and harsh as the words he spoke through gritted teeth, and those she growled through open sobs.

“Why couldn’t you just tell me?” she cried with hands thrown up in the air and all patience laid to waste.

“I was going to, for fuck’s sake, I just didn’t get the time!” was all that Yoongi could shout in reply, the rising in his voice matching that of his blood, feeling it flush his face in anger.

“’Didn’t get the time’? Yoongi, there were so many opportunities for you to tell me, you just didn’t want to! You didn’t want to have to deal with...with this! With my reaction!”

“What’s the big deal, anyway? It’s nothing new!”  Deep down, she knew it was the truth. Somehow, though, this time had been different.

“Yoongi... you’re leaving for four months...four...months,” she sighed, the words leaving her mouth in a drawn out desperation. She needed him to understand just how much it would hurt her. How much it always hurt her, and how understanding she always tried to be. She would always mind saying goodbye, it would always cause a deep rift of pain inside her chest, and hollow her out like the empty side of their bed where he should be laying. But she always understood, and they always talked these things out.

For some reason, it hadn’t happened like that this time. 

He’d come home late in the night, a regular occurrence. She’d thrown her arms around him. Another normality.

“Guess what?” she’d murmured, tucked safely into the circle of his arms, her lips a gentle smile and her heart seemingly falling in sync with his. She couldn’t know for sure if it were the case, but sometimes it just...felt like it.

“Hm?”

“My friend is getting married and she’s invited us both. And, it’s exactly a month after our anniversary, which is a funny coincidence, isn’t it?”

There was something tense in Yoongi’s reaction, something that shouldn’t have been there, but was. Hesitation.  He’d held his breath a little longer than needed, and he’d almost frozen in place.

This elicited only confusion from her. Why would he react such a way?

“Yoongi, what’s wrong? It’s three months away, so you don’t need to worry about not having anything to wear just yet,” as she pulled back to reassure him, he could do nothing but turn away, sighing heavy and frowning deep at the continuation of her words. Her eyes searched his face for an answer, yet his dark hair fell over his eyes in the way he was turned, so she couldn’t look at him properly.  She needed to.

Finally, he spoke, and when he did, she rather wished he hadn’t. Because it only took four words to throw her heart into her stomach and her eyes watering up.

“I won’t be here.”

“You’re going to miss it,” she murmured quietly, glass-like eyes reflecting the image of him with his hands running through his hair and a look of exasperation taking his features. 

“I’m sure your friend will understand, you just have to tell her I’-”

“No.”

Her interruption was choked up and struggled to leave her throat, and had Yoongi turning, taking her in, no matter how much it pained him to do it. He couldn’t stand the sight of her the way she was. Not out of disgust in her, but in himself. Making her feel that way, making her look so heartbroken, so ripped up inside and out. 

He’d always wanted to shield her from any pain, in any possible way. Maybe for some stupid reason, he thought not telling her he’d be on Tour for a few months would make it easier for him to leave, so he didn’t have to see her pained expression. It was one he could never get used to.  He was going to tell her, eventually.  He could just never work up the courage.

You’re going to miss it.

In the heat of the moment, he didn’t know what it meant.  And yet with the pain in her eyes reminded him soon enough.

“I...I know...” his defeated manor caused her tears to fall harder still, running down her cheeks and hazing her vision of him as he wandered toward her and took her in his arms like once before. 

“What am I going to do without you here? It’s been three years. That’s a long time,” mumbles vibrated on his chest as her body fell into a comfortable position in his arms, as it always did, and most likely always will. 

“Listen to me,” he whispered, low, as if a secret for only the two of them to hear, though in the emptiness of their apartment.

“When I get up on that stage, I’ll get up there for you. I’ll perform for you. Of course I’ll do that every night, but on that night, our night, I won’t be performing for the fans. Just this once, when I perform, it won’t be about them. It’ll be about you, and the support you’ve given me, all these years.”

Foreheads touched together in the most intimate way. Breathing slowed, and hearts...hearts synced up. As they always seemed to do. The cold surrounded the two, freezing like the winters he would be gone. Warm breathes washed over one anothers faces, akin to the wind of the warm Spring in which he would return.

The only feelings that clung to the air was deep devotion, and a deeper sadness.

“It just won’t be the same without you.”

“I know.”