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readyplayerhobi · 6 years

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Symphony of Sin - The Graveyard Series

A series where I just post whatever I’ve written of fics I have no intention of finishing. Someone may as well enjoy them! They’re obviously not finished, nor are they proof-read, nor will they likely make sense! Scenes may jump around and so forth but...who knows, maybe you’ll enjoy?

Metal Vocallist!Taehyung x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Synopsis: Your world is softness and sweetness, gentle ballads of pure words and light, catchy beats merging together in dreams come to life. His world is hard and loud, songs of anger and rage pounded out of instruments in nightmares given song. But what happens when those worlds collide?

The tinkling of windchimes in the light breeze combined with the warmth of sun as you leaned back on your hands. Eyes closed, it felt like a tiny piece of heaven right here on Earth and you were loathe to ever let it go.

“Okay, nice! I’ve got it!” Momo called out, causing you to open your eyes and look over in her direction. She’s knelt on the floor, a Canon camera in her hands with a large wide-angle lens protruding from it that she’s currently intensely looking at, checking over the photos she’d taken.

You were both shooting your new music single cover image, lovingly titled ‘Afternoon Sun’. Sitting down next to her, you take a peek at the photographs and smile fondly. In the tiny image viewer, you’re sat on the windowsill with rays of sun beaming in and lighting up dust particles the float aimlessly around you.

The sheer, gauzy white curtains are blowing gently and the lighting gives an odd juxtaposition of shadows and brightness. A navy blue dress reaches mid-thigh and your legs drape over the edge, ending in pointed toes that years of ballet have given you.

It looks ethereal and whimsical, like a dream sequence that has been brought to life and to you, it’s like your song has taken physical form. Smiling at Momo, you connect up the camera to your MacBook and begin to upload the images, getting ready to edit them to perfection.

There’s plenty of people that happily call you hippie, deriding your indie music and style with a sneer. Your music is light hearted lyrics that belay deep meanings, softly sung words that when listening closely reveal your soul being poured out.

Songs about love and life, your health and your friends. Songs about heart wrenching love and songs about soul crushing despair. They are the songs that live in your head and are poured out onto paper, a keyboard, a piano; whatever you can find that will let the melodies and words flow.

While artists such as Shawn Mendes, Ed Sheeran, Lorde and Adele have made music and songs like yours more popular, there seems to be a limit to what people will accept. Music that is produced by the big labels is lauded as beautiful and game changing, smaller singer-songwriters like yourself seem to struggle and get derided.

Hippie music, boring music, music to die to. It seems that if there isn’t a voice layered over itself sixteen times along with a little auto-tuning and a ton of electronic instruments, people aren’t interested. It doesn’t bother you though, as you’re just happy making the music you like with the people you love.

Your little musical corner wasn’t very big, and you’re listener count hovered somewhere around 10,000 people on Spotify. Not even remotely enough to make a living off but you enjoyed self publishing your music. Your main job was as a photographer and videographer, though even that made living hard sometimes.

It did make shooting your music videos easy though as you simply asked your friends to help and your boss, the owner of the photograph studio, was always happy to expand his skills on his time off. You’d become a little renowned among your small circle for your high quality videos made on a low budget that spoke of sincerity while showing creativity.

But despite your small following on Spotify and Soundcloud, your fans were incredibly loyal and supportive. Any negative tweets when you were having a bad day were responded to with plenty of love and attention, causing a smile to rise each time.

You loved each and every one of them, even if you couldn’t meet all of them. The small fanbase you had was part of the reason you kept doing this, even though you had no real reason to carry on like you did.

So caught up in your photographs, finding the perfect one required close scrutiny to ensure there was nothing wrong and that the angle and lighting were perfect, you didn’t notice Momo’s sharp inhale of breath next to you.

It’s only when she begins to poke your stomach insistently that you look over, a frown marring your forehead at the interruption. She doesn’t notice though, too busy focused on her phone and gesturing to it insistently.

“Oh my god, oh my god! Y/N, oh my god!” Is all she says constantly, waving her phone around so much you can only see a blur of light. Scowling, you grab her arm to stop her.

“What?! What is it?” Momo looks at you with wide eyes before turning the phone screen to you, allowing you to see the familiar layout of Twitter staring up at you. The tweet is from some verified account that you’ve never heard of, answering someone else’s tweet. The original tweet is in a little box under their answer and you read that first.

Claire Fairngold @3scap3th3vort3x

@enterthevortex Taehyung! What’s your favourite song lately? #kimtaehyung #taehyungtime

The verified account had answered it and your eyes read over it for a moment without quite taking it in.

Enter The Vortex @enterthevortex

Thanks for your question! My favourite song right now is ‘It’s You And Me Against The World’ by @Y/N. Probably not what people expected but check her out, she’s very good!

You stare in confusion at the words, confused as to who on Earth this person was that had recommended your song. It was a year old song and one of your favourites, written when you thought you were in love and could conquer the world. The relationship had fizzled out but you still remembered happy times when you listened to it.

It’s only then that you capture the retweet and like counts and your eyes widen immediately in shock.

67K retweets, 367K likes and over 10K replies, to a tweet from someone you’d never even heard of! Tapping the user handle, the page loads up to reveal a cover photo of a huge arena crowd with six guys stood in front of them, hands held up together as stage lighting illuminates them from behind.

The profile picture is a band logo that is elegant yet imposing at the same time, white text on a black background. 7 million people follow this group, and you’ve never even heard of them. Looking at Momo in confusion, you watch as her lips twist into a smile before she’s leaning over, fingers pressing on the touchscreen and navigating back to your own profile.

“Look at that. That’s just in the last half an hour since he tweeted that. This is ridiculous!” She squealed, hands clapping together excitedly. In complete opposition, you sit in silence as you stare at your own follower count.

It had been hovering at just over 5,000 people for a few weeks now and you’d been pretty happy with it. But now you had over 100,000 followers and the number kept rising and that was to say nothing of your mentions which were exploding with people replying to the original tweet, including your own handle.

“Who...who are Enter The Vortex?” Momo stops looking at the phone to stare at you with creased brows, shock written all over her face like a New York Times bestseller.

“You...you’re kidding right? I know they’re a metal group but they’ve had a few songs hit the Top 40 over the last few years,” Your blank stare causes her to face forward in shock. “Okay, hold on.” She grabs hold of the phone and brings up YouTube, typing furiously before scrolling to find the video she wants.

Turning the device around, the screen rotates to fill out the whole width and you proceed to watch the video. At first there’s nothing but a haunting cello playing, the video taken up by a wide shot of a dead tree surrounded by mist. And then the wall of noise sounds.

Well, a wall of noise is being cruel. You can hear the melodies underneath the pounding bass, frenetic drums and relentless guitars, with an underlying piano subtly heard throughout. But it’s the screaming that causes your face to scrunch up.

Loud, like it has been filled with the rage of a thousand souls who died too soon, the vocals sound as if they are being ripped from the guy’s throat. And just when you think you’re ready to reach out and press stop, they suddenly vanish and a hauntingly sweet voice takes over, harmonising over the top of a deep and sultry voice.

They play with each other, rising and falling together before sliding in between the gaps each leaves open in the song. The unending energy and heaviness of the instruments makes it hard for you to truly love the song, but from a musical perspective you appreciate the complex melodies they have produced and the vocalists take your breath away.

“Well, it’s not my cup of tea I guess but the vocals were beautiful. I never thought that you could have vocals like that in a metal song?” The words are tinged with confusion and surprise, causing Momo to look at you with a raised eyebrow.

“I think you of all people should know to not judge things like what kind of music someone makes, right?” You look down at that, suitably chastised as you remember all the people who’ve criticised your music and put it down.

“Okay, but I did say they have nice vocals. How did they manage to crack the Top 40? This is not Top 40 material.” The video has ended now and it’s only then that you notice that the entire thing had been telling a story, with no band members present. Or at least you’re 95% positive that girl is not a member, though maybe she plays an instrument?

Momo chuckles lightly, taking the phone back as her fingers begin to tap away once again. “Oh girl, metal may not be your style but let me tell you...these guys are to die for. I’m not ashamed to say I started listening to them because I’d let every one of them ravage me.”

Eyes popping wide, you lean back at the phone that’s been shoved back into your face. The image you’re now staring at is of seven guys, which seems a little excessive for a band but what do you know?

And you have to give it to Momo, she’s not wrong. Each member exudes bad boy, and given the music they make they can probably back it up, but you have the disconcerting feeling that they could walk into Gucci tomorrow and come out models.

The main things you notice are muscles, oh holy wow muscles, tattoos, so many tattoos, and piercings. Momo begins pointing to each member and talking about them individually, the drummer called Hoseok with all monochrome tattoo sleeves that match his black hair that’s swept up to the rhythm guitarist named Namjoon, with his black hair shaved on all sides but the top platinum blonde, intricate art scenes blooming up his arms and along his neck.

She taps two individual members suddenly, two fingers pinching the screen and expanding it. One of them looks youthful with bright, colourful tattoos spreading along his arms and throat, a ring speared through the centre of his lip and a ridiculously large number of piercings in his ears. Black hair that looks soft but mussy, as if he’s rolled out of bed and run his hands through it a few times has a slightly blue tinge.

He’s unbelievably attractive with the cocky little smirk on his lips, just a hint of white teeth peeking through but its the glint in his eye that makes your stomach clench. He has a face of innocence and eyes of sin.

“That’s Jungkook, he’s the second vocalist. The one with the higher voice?” Momo sounds uncertain of how to describe it but you nod anyway, remembering the almost sweet voice that soared high. His face suits his voice, but the man next to him does not.

Hands pushing back fire engine red hair that looks soft and silky to the touch, his arms are dominated by bright splashes of colour that spiral their way up his muscled limbs, creeping underneath his shirt only to reappear around his neck. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, tugging the two lip rings on either side gently while his dark, eyeliner smudged eyes are hooded as they stare deeply into the camera, promising all sorts of dirty things you suspect he could fulfil.

Jungkook has the kind of youthful beauty that will make him popular for years to come, but this guy has a refined attractiveness that would inspire statues to last centuries. A sharp, cutting jawline is met with a perfect nose, a ring piercing his septum, leading up to two intense eyebrows that just add to the sheer magnetic pull of his face. You’d never considered eyebrows attractive until right now.

“He’s the main vocalist, Taehyung.” Momo’s voice is almost background noise right now as you observe him closer. This man, this celestial body turned into human flesh, did not look like he was the one who had been screaming out rage. But at the same time, he didn’t look like the kind of man who would croon darkly seductive tones with a deep voice. Everything about this man was a walking contradiction.

A face that belonged in artwork that would be revered in centuries to come and yet he had turned his own body into a walking canvas to be displayed to the world. A voice that could sing an angel into a fall from grace and yet he chooses to strain those vocals with unrestrained power and emotion.

Momo must take your silence as a positive as she nudges your shoulder teasingly. “He’s the one who recommended you, if you can believe it.” A soft giggle lets you know she’s just as shocked as you are, she’s just handling it better.

10 minutes ago, you would have said a metal band was incapable of listening to your music and enjoying it. Hell, even after seeing the pictures of them you’d think the same thing. But looking at Taehyung now, you’re not surprised.

Because his colourful tattoos, that would be taken as gaudy and offensive at first, are interwoven with layers of culture spanning centuries. His left arm, from wrist to elbow, at first looks to be a wild mess of colour but you spot the intricacies quickly. Blues, yellows and whites swirl together beneath musical notes, melting timepieces and more. He’s brought Van Gogh’s Starry Night to life on his arm.

His other arm has a stylised version of Edvard Munch’s The Scream that melts into the hyper coloured world of Leonid Afremov’s paintings. While there are plenty of things merging into these, they cause a smile spreads over your lips without warning as you realise that this man, who’s vocals sound like his throat is being ripped out, is a man of the arts. Something that surprises you intensely, instantly making you feel bad about your stereotypes and preconceived ideas.

Passing the phone back to Momo, you simply smile as she continues to scroll through all your new notifications. Picking up your own phone, you unlock the screen and navigate to the Twitter app, heart racing as you see the continuously increasing follower count. You’re not entirely sure why you do it, given their music really isn’t your scene, but you press that little blue follow button on their account.

It takes exactly three minutes for them to follow you back.

For a few days there’s no more interactions between the two of you, though that might be because you’re too busy making sure that your new song is fully mixed and ready to go. It’s at 12pm exactly that you release the song on Spotify and YouTube, sending out a quick tweet with a link and a little ‘surprise! Hope you all enjoy it!’.

So it’s a shock to find your tweet almost instantly liked by the verified account and a reply a few minutes later.

Enter The Vortex @enterthevortex

@Y/N love the new song!

Is all it says, but immediately your timeline begins to fill up with people practically screaming into it. You can’t quite figure out why this metal band has taken such an interest in your work, particularly given you can’t even get most mainstream artists to listen to your stuff.

#taehyung fluff #taehyung fiction #taehyung x reader #metal taehyung #taehyung fanfic #graveyard series #unfinished fic

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