selfproducingfanfictionauthor

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

SHORT HIATUS

Hello! Not sure if people are reading this (or my blog) hahaha but I haven’t been active in a short bit because my 2010 lover came rushing back -- The Walking Dead fandom -- as well as my muse for my ship (Bethyl) so I’m over my other blog writing for it.  (Also, kind of in between jobs right now. Building my own business brand and stuff, life ya know)  But don’t worry, the ANGST (Namjoon x Reader & Yoongi x Reader) series will be continued as well as the Taehyung x OC miscarriage!au. I’ve got them in the drafts.  Will be back every now and then to write sprints but for now, bon voyage! 

P.S. Send your requests in my anon and I’ll write them & flush them all in one go. ;) 

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

HAHAHA *laughs in pain*  god please let these two fucking talk  also, fuck mc’s dad 

back-burner | 05

you give and you give until you have nothing left for people to take

PAIRING. min yoongi x reader

GENRE. sister’s best friend!au, best friend to lovers!au, sorta frenemies?to lovers!au, angst, *slow burn*, eventual smut, fluff

WARNINGS. toxic parents, heart-aching heartbreak, misunderstandings and arguments, some news that breaks oc :(, oc only knows how to react, but she has hobi to make up for the shittiness ... kind of :(

WORDS. 3.7k

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Frankly, Hoseok’s voice was doing no good for you. Not when anxiety was already riddled in your stomach, threatening to escape the confines of your throat in screams of anguish. You were jittery, panicked and highly strung. Not a good combination for someone whose family enjoys eating fresh oysters for brunch when you didn’t do good with seafood.

“Holy shit, what was I thinking,” you hiss, immediately turning to him as he takes an alarmed step back, eyes wide when you grab at his elbow. “Who the fuck invites the guy that they’re fucking to a family brunch?”

“Um. Technically we haven’t had sex since—“ you know what he’s about to say, but that doesn’t stop the venomous stare that reproaches him. His lips snap shut, his head nodding slowly as you impulsively decide to make a run for it.

“Okay, they’re not here yet so maybe we can just leave and I’ll tell them that you got a little handsy—”

“—why do you have to make me the bad guy—?”

“Jung Hoseok.”

A gravelly voice cuts through, and you immediately recognise the voice despite it sounding so far away. It always has. Growing up, people said you would remember things that were constants in your life just because you were impressionable. You knew that was true, people were products of their environments and that naturally meant you would get used to your surroundings.

But his voice, the one that you secretly wished was a little kinder—especially to you—was something you could never get used to.

“Sir,” Hoseok swoops in, suave as always as he shoots your father a wide smile before he bows ever so slightly out of respect. “It’s lovely to see you. Ralph Lauren?”

He’s referring to your father’s dress shirt and blazer. It’s apparel that screams old money, and you knew that your parents were loaded with that. Apparently, and thankfully, Hoseok fit right in with the type of people that your father mingled around with because your dad smiles. A feat that’s especially rare to you.

“It is,” he nods, albeit gruffly, Hoseok is undeterred. “Are you accompanying her?”

Her.

Her sounds so distant. As if you weren’t his daughter. As if you weren’t half of him. As if he didn’t pick your name.

Her was a placeholder for Haerin.

“Sure am,” Hoseok grins, wrapping a friendly arm around your shoulder as you tense under the act. “She was helping me with some business pitches so I had to return the favour.”

He wasn’t lying, but your father looks surprised. As if he hadn’t expected you to be able to do anything but exist. You knew he wasn’t interested in your work with NGO’s while you helped activists with the money that you had.

Even if your parents were detached, they knew better than to cut you off completely. But you knew, that deep down, it was only to keep you from asking for more.

“I see,” he says slowly, barely passing you a glance. You offer him a tight nod.

His stare is uncomfortable, and it’s the same one he uses whenever he was picking you apart bit by bit. It’s never obvious to the rest because he’s mastered the art of doing enough by saying absolutely nothing. You grew up between four walls with him, so while his voice is unfamiliar—you’re more than familiar with his habits that come out in your presence.

“Father,” you say quietly.

He doesn’t nod, simply clasps his hands behind his back before he looks behind his shoulders. You let out the sigh you didn’t know you were holding, while pointedly ignoring Hoseok’s gaze. You didn’t need to unpack that interaction with him yet. He’s nice enough to stay close to you, a friendly arm still resting on your lower back.

“There they are,” he says, and you follow his line of vision.

You knew, but a slap still hurts even if it’s planned.

Your mother walks through the entrance first, poised and clean with her purse resting with refined purpose against her hip. Her back is straight and her makeup clear. Not too little to seem au natural, but not too much that it’d look overbearing. She was primed to perfection.

And Haerin was a mirror of her.

She comes next, back as straight like your mother if not more. They’re dawned in matching attire and you know it’s completely coincidental. Your mother always loved to say that Haerin just knew her. It was common dinner talk, especially when you would return home after the academy with your clothing torn while Haerin remained unscathed.

But it’s not them who makes you lose your breath.

It’s Yoongi.

He walks in, right behind Haerin in a gentlemanly manner. His attire is modest, a white button-up tucked into white slacks. His hair is brushed back and he walks with a quiet sense of confidence that you know only he can pull off. Even Hoseok whistles lowly, muttering something about Yoongi’s aura. You can’t deny, because your eyes are locked on him.

It’s another meeting with him after a rather awkward last, and the fact that you had Hoseok by your side made you feel queasier.

And yes, maybe you did invite Hoseok as a smokescreen. But you did truly enjoy his company, and he did say to call him whenever you needed him.

Maybe you invited him so you wouldn’t feel that alone with Haerin and Yoongi.

Your mother strides confidently to your father’s side, slightly taller than him in heels as she presses a peck onto his cheek. She looks over at you in a small greeting, somewhat kinder than your father.

You return the gesture, and Hoseok beams for the both of you.

“Looking gorgeous, ma’am,” he compliments.

“What a charmer,” she coos, “How did she convince you?”

You recoil ever so slightly at her words. They weren’t malicious. They never were. The thing about your parents is that they’re never intentionally malevolent so you could never truly hate them. But you resented him. God, you did. A deep, brewing and bitter boil of resentment that bubbles over and dies every time you’re reminded of why you do.

“By being her,” he says smoothly, knocking his hip against your own as your parents, along with Haerin, laugh.

Yoongi is impassive, his eyes briefly resting on the man next to you before they flicker away like it never happened.

“How sweet!” Haerin chirps, and she’s suddenly by your side, stealing you away from Hoseok by wrapping an arm around your elbow. She lowers her voice conspicuously as you attempt to loosen your tense muscles when she grins at you. “You need to tell me everything.”

You almost frown because you remember that it was you. You were the one that held the animosity. You were the one that was tense. You were the one that was different. Not your parents, not Haerin, and not even Hoseok because he got along well with them.

It was you.

“There’s … nothing. We’re friends,” you tell her the truth and she seems disappointed.

Her eyes narrow at Hoseok’s figure playfully, and you wonder if he’ll fall in love with her, too. “I have my eyes on you, mister.”

Hoseok laughs. “And I have my eyes on her.”

He’s so smooth that you nearly gag. You know he’s only doing this to ease the atmosphere, but your parents look convinced. You know better. You know it’s just Hoseok’s personality to be outwardly flirty. He just has an aura that made people comfortable.

“So cute!” she squeals, shaking your arm as you offer an awkward smile at her.

Yoongi’s yet to say anything to you, but he’s already greeted Hoseok. The two men share a smile, one more amicable than the other. You don’t need to say who.

“Nice outfit, man,” Hoseok says, patting Yoongi’s shoulder in good nature. “I like the pants.”

Yoongi looks down for a split second before he looks up with his infamous blank stare.

“Thanks,” he says, not unkindly, “You too.”

Hoseok takes it because he’s probably incapable of seeing the worst in anyone. You’d call it naive, but you know it’s just Hoseok.

“Our reservation’s waiting for us,” your mother says, smiling over all of you.

You feel Haerin release your arm, and you feel all the more relaxed.

But when she slips to Yoongi’s side like second nature, smiling up at him as he allows her to see one of his small grins that he rarely lets anyone else see—the tenseness returns.

“Come on,” Hoseok murmurs, slinging his arm over your shoulder again as he shoots you a smile that should’ve comforted you. “You mentioned oysters?”

“So,” your father drawls, chin resting in his hand while he stares you and Hoseok down like you were in an interrogation room. “How did the two of you meet?”

You almost roll your eyes. “Your gala.”

“Which one?” he asks, and it’s a valid question.

“Ooh, did you see her and get blown away by her astounding beauty?” Only Haerin would use astounding as an adjective to describe you, and you visibly wince at that.

Hoseok smiles kindly. “Something like that.”

Haerin nudges your shoulder and you’re too tired to respond.

Your mother looks sceptical, probably wondering how Hoseok would look at you and go—hey, this is the sister that I want. It’s not unwarranted, and her confusion is anything but out of place.

“It’s nice of you to accompany her today,” your mother says, “She never brings anyone over.”

“When you look at the options it’s hard to,” you mutter under your breath, and despite you thinking it was quiet—everyone picks up on it.

Your parents are unamused, Haerin looks rather shocked, Yoongi barely moves an inch—but Hoseok laughs.

“Well, he picked you, didn’t he?” your father points out, and you freeze.

It’s not malicious, you remind yourself. It’s not—even if your ears burn and your heart constricts. Even when you feel the anxiety in your stomach, the hyper-realisation that everyone at this table looked at you and wondered why you had Hoseok by your side. You weren’t together—but the visual didn’t make sense.

But there was only one of Haerin and none of you.

“We’re not together,” you clip tightly, fingers tightening around your fork as you shove a piece of smoked salmon into your mouth.

Your mother raises a brow. “Then why did you bring him here?”

Your jaw clenches.

“The same reason why Haerin brings Yoongi.”

You don’t mean to say it. You’re usually a lot more careful. But recently, you find yourself a lot more loose-lipped than you’d like.

Your parents' eyes harden, and you note that Haerin flushes next to you. Yoongi?

He’s staring straight at you with an unamused stare.

“Listen—” you sigh, ready to call it a day when you note Hoseok’s concerned stare.

“They’re different. They’ve known each other forever,” your mother huffs, “And besides, it makes sense. They complete each other, don’t you think?”

It makes sense.

What did that even mean? To make sense? So the alternative of them not knowing each other didn’t make sense? You wanted to scoff because that’s what your parents think. It was either that they were each other’s pair or wasn’t. Nothing about anything made sense. It just was.

“A-Actually,” Haerin interjects softly, sharing a nervous look over her shoulder to where Yoongi sits. “I have—we have something to tell you.”

You freeze completely. Your head feels hot, heavy. There’s something on your knee—you think it’s Hoseok’s hand but you can’t tell. Your eyes glaze. Why did that send a shiver down your spine? Haerin always has something to tell your parents.

It wasn’t her—it was them.

“Oh?” your father hums.

Haerin turns to Yoongi, and you don’t even want to look at his face. You feel a heavy stare against your temple but you don’t dare acknowledge anything but the erratic beating of your heart.

“Well,” she starts with a mumble. She’s nervous. You are, too. “You know how we’ve known each other for a long time?” Everyone knows. But somehow they forget that you knew him equally as long. “We know each other inside out.”

You don’t want to consider the implications of that.

“And … I guess what I’m trying to say is …” she mumbles, “We’re giving it a shot.”

What?

“Dating, I mean. Getting to know each other that way,” she says and you hear her smile.

You were going to puke. The smell of oysters makes you feel sick, the news making you sicker. You were supposed to be happy—no—you expected this! You expected it. You always said so, thought so. So why were you so shocked? Why did your ears ring? Why was your face getting hot?

What happened? What changed? What made them decide now? What had crossed Yoongi's mind when the conversation came up. Did he smile? Did he allow her the indulgence of his occasional gummy grin, the one that tugs at your heartstrings despite it being a rarity?

Or, did Haerin pull him close—faces inches apart while she holds the weight of your feelings in her hands? Did she see the specks that you do that hides beneath the layers of his eyes—more than the cornea but deep into the window of his soul?

Did she? Did he?

Did they?

“That’s lovely!” your mother cheers, clapping her hands. “Oh, Yoongi. You know we love you.”

Your mother's voice rings, but you can barely pay attention when your heart's at your feet, laid out for everyone to stomp all over. You think you see the excited patter of Haerin's heels against the tile, easily stabbing your heart with every content giggle that leaves her lips.

“You’re practically family, anyway,” your father grins, and your vision barely makes out the oyster platter in front of you. “It was bound to happen.”

It was—you kept telling yourself that, didn't you? That your feelings were a ticking time bomb that'd blow upon you.

It did—and it's horrid.

“Ah, I mean, we’re just trying it out,” he explains, but Haerin looks over at him softly. “We’ll see how it goes.”

Your mother waves him off. “It seems odd because you’ve only ever remained friends, but we all saw it coming. Didn’t we?” She looks over at your father and he nods. “It’ll be perfect.”

Of course, it was. Haerin was nothing short of perfection.

You see from the corner of your eyes that Haerin reaches for Yoongi’s hand.

He takes it.

“Hoseok, huh?”

You stop, fingers halting halfway as you reach for the door. Hoseok’s in the bathroom, your parents have already taken their leave and you know Haerin’s taking a phone call somewhere. You thought you could make a run for it, get to where Hoseok's car is parked before Yoongi sees you.

But he’s quicker than you’ll ever be.

“We’re not together,” you say curtly.

Yoongi snorts. “Didn’t seem that way that night.”

He’s referring to when he caught you and Hoseok sneaking away like a bunch of teenagers.

You narrow your eyes at him.

“It’s casual,” you explain.

Yoongi looks unimpressed. “You brought him over for brunch.”

“So?” you sigh.

“You never bring anyone,” he reminds.

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason why I didn’t, okay?” you snap, the news from earlier still lingering in your mind. It hurt to even look at him. “Drop it.”

You don't think you can stomach a conversation with Yoongi without the smell of oysters returning. Or the sweet smile that Haerin gave him. Or the fact that—

“You’re always so defensive, did you know that?” he muses.

“It’s 'cause you’re always interrogating me!” you say with a roll of your eyes, “You don’t see me meddling into your business.”

“Sorry for wanting to know how you are,” he shrugs, “Besides. I was going to tell you, anyway.”

You stop fiddling with your fingers. You look over at Yoongi and he has his face trained forward. He has an impeccable side profile, and you hate how devastatingly handsome he looks. He’s pale, and the white should’ve washed him out but he looks … he looks like Yoongi.

He was going to tell you?

As if that mattered when the truth would only scar you.

“Sure you were,” you mutter.

He looks over at you with a raised brow.

“I was,” he says slowly, “You weren’t really responding to my texts.”

“I was busy,” you lie. You were avoiding confrontation after that night, the embarrassment still lingering. Maybe it was your sixth sense kicking in—telling you that the distance was necessary. That whenever you came close to Yoongi your heart would drop and your mind would turn hazy.

“With Hoseok,” he deadpans.

“With work,” you hiss.

“Look, I don’t know the details of your and Hoseok’s relationship but you should think twice before you do anything.”

You freeze.

“What?”

“Hoseok’s a nice guy. Nicest guy I know, probably,” he says, “But if it’s just ‘casual’—” he air quotes it as you continue to stare at the side of his head, “don’t get yourself into a situation you can’t get out of.”

You blink at him, noting that he was dead serious.

“Does it matter?”

Now, it was Yoongi’s turn to look confused.

“Yes?” he says sceptically, “You never indicated to anyone that you were interested in him, let alone in dating, so forgive me if—”

“Are you stupid?” you hiss, “Why does that matter to you? You never indicated anything to me either!”

You weren’t sure why you were getting so defensive, but the fact that he was telling you to watch out while he could just—could shatter your heart unknowingly like that—made you delirious.

“Tone,” he warns, eyes narrowing at you as you roll your eyes.

“Are you talking to a dog? Fuck off,” you scowl, “What I do is literally none of your business. Just like how you and—”

Yoongi looks at you with an unplayable expression, the corners of his lips turned downwards in a half-frown. You catch your tongue when he turns to you, arms folded across his chest.

“It isn’t,” he says lowly, levelling you with a pointed stare. “But I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

It's funny—Hoseok seemed like the person that should've hurt you in this situation.

So why did looking at Yoongi hurt more?

“Hoseok’s a nice guy,” you grit out immediately, done with the conversation.

“A nice guy wouldn’t have fucked you in a place where anyone could’ve caught you.”

Your eyes widen, cheeks aflame when Yoongi doesn’t look away from you at all. His gaze is heavy and pointed, and you feel your chest constrict when his eyes harden.

“W-We didn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me,” he warns, “I know.”

You gawk at him. “H-How—what? Were you fucking listening?”

Somehow, the idea of Yoongi hearing whatever you and Hoseok had done makes you … it makes you feel confused. There’s an unknown expression marring his face, but his overall expression remains impassive. He inches closer, a forewarning in his step.

“You deserve better,” he says quietly, wrapping a hand around your wrist as you blink.

You’re speechless, and you feel your throat clam up when you stare at him.

“Like you know what’s good for me,” you snap softly, snatching it away.

“I’m your friend,” he tells you, and you hate that reminder. You hate that word. That title that was placed upon you without a choice while you were forced to develop feelings and watch him and Haerin jump around together like you weren’t a part of the equation. You never were. You were in the ensemble, quiet and unimportant.

“Just because you are doesn’t mean you know a damn thing about me,” you hiss. “So what if he fucked me at the gala? I liked it. And if you were really listening then you can tell just how much I—”

“Watch your mouth,” he growls, stepping forward as you feel his body crowd you. He’s not threatening, but his face is. It’s blank and blazing.

“What? Did you get off to that? Listening to us fuck?” you goad, mocking him as you roll your eyes.

You’re trailing off into a dangerous tangent and you know it.

“Watch it,” he warns, and his hand wraps around your wrist as you shoot him a dry stare.

“There you go,” you scoff, “Acting like my dad again. You should be into that, right? Maybe you should get Haerin to call you dadd—”

“Stop acting like a fucking brat.”

His voice is low, nearly a hushed whisper but you hear it loud and clear. Your anger blinds most of your rationale, but there’s something oddly powerful and freeing about pushing Yoongi’s buttons until he breaks. Especially when you were always on the brink of snapping.

“Make me,” you sneer.

Yoongi’s darkened, and you feel so much hotter. The room gets stuffier, and his eyes become clearer to you. You see the way a familiar expression returns, the one from the first night where you blew up during the gala.

You feel—

“Guys—oh—”

You immediately snap back when you hear Haerin’s voice shatter your reality. You realise just how close you’ve gotten, and you remember where you were.

Who he was. Who he was with.

“Is everything …?” she trails off, looking in between the both of you as you shake your head.

Hoseok comes in at an impeccable timing, looking in between everyone with a wide smile, unaware of the tense atmosphere.

“Yeah,” you grit stiffly, looking over at Hoseok. “You ready?”

He nods his head, smiling at Yoongi who has his jaw clenched, and Haerin who just looks concerned.

“Nice seeing you guys!”

You begin to drag him away, wanting to distance yourself from Yoongi and the way your heart only drops further when Haerin genuinely looks confused.

They were giving it a shot.

How literal, that was—when your heart was pierced by their arrow.

Before you could leave, a hand stops you by wrapping around your wrist.

Yoongi’s staring at you with a serious expression.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he says softly.

His eyes briefly flicker to Hoseok as your gaze hardens.

You snatch your hand away.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Because you can't control the pain, unfortunately. You can't control the way your hand burns when you retract it—the lingering aura of Yoongi's grip sizzling into your flesh as he scars himself onto you.

You leave, feeling your chest get heavier. Once you reach Hoseok’s car, you sink into the passenger seat with your head cradled in your hand.

“I didn't know ...” Hoseok supplements, softly and carefully.

“Fuck,” you laugh tightly, “It happened.”

Hoseok can only pat your back when you struggle to keep your tears at bay.

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

well, damn, can’t say we’re surprised -- war, politics, social standing -- there is only so much love can do. 

summer 1871.

not you. not you. not you.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader words: 2.4k contains: explicit sexual content, brief talk of miscarriage

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 38. start from the beginning?

JULY

Her name is Seong-min.

Keep reading

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

*cackles in crazy* I KNEW IT. I knew it!! Reader is taking v... unhealthy ways of dealing with her feelings, Yoongi won’t talk, she won’t listen and Hoseok x reader smut is fucking hot.  (I wonder how Yoongi would’ve reacted if he caught them in the act itself? Imagine him walking into the room, catching Y/N’s orgasm face with Hoseok’s head between her legs? fun.) 

back-burner | 04

just for tonight, you'll try to forget

PAIRING. min yoongi x reader

GENRE. sister's best friend!au, best friend to lovers!au, sorta frenemies?to lovers!au, angst, *slow burn*, smut, fluff

WARNINGS. an intervention, bad decision making and justifications, longing, sibling jealousy, implied smut, public sex-ish?, fwb-situation, introducing hobi!!!, jk trying to be a good friend :(

WORDS. 3.8k

“You know what I need?”

“What?” Jungkook replies dryly, face sour when you dragged him out of his apartment at seven am in the morning on a weekend.

You were an early riser! And, Jungkook did say that he was your best friend even if that title was heavily self-proclaimed. You were simply making use out of the resources that were bestowed upon you, even if said best friend looks anything but friendly when he glares at you through his puffy eyes.

“An intervention,” you deadpan, leaning forward whilst you slide him a green juice that you ordered on his behalf.

He grimaces when he ogles the glass, glaring at you even harder if that was possible before he slides it back to you.

“Couldn’t this intervention wait till it was a socially acceptable hour?” he mutters under his breath.

“You know for someone who’s meant to be supporting me, you’re being really unsupportive right now,” you blink.

“You know my brain doesn’t operate before 12 PM on weekends so whose fault is that?” he sneers patronisingly, simultaneously releasing a sigh of relief when your food finally arrives.

A familiar face serves you, and you smile when Marco greets you and your companion with his signature grin.

“Nice to see you so early,” he chirps before his head is falling on Jungkook. “Boyfriend?”

Jungkook literally gags. “God, no. Please.”

You ignore him before shooting Marco a sweet smile, one that you usually reserve for people that weren’t the bane of your existence.

“He wishes,” you hum and Jungkook kicks you in the shin.

Marco leaves, telling the both of you that he hopes you’d enjoy the food. You will, obviously, this cafe was your favourite for a reason and you needed that douse of serotonin after the events you were put through the night before.

Even recalling what had happened, how you felt and the bitter tang that it leaves in your chest is enough to turn your face tetchy. Jungkook, despite his half-asleep state, picks up on your change of expression.

“Spill before I leave,” he sighs, and you know that even if he feigns disinterest, he was more curious about your life drama than anything else. Only Jeon Jungkook would live off your life crises.

“That’s what I need,” you say in all seriousness.

“To spill?” he asks with a raised brow, visibly confused.

“A boyfriend,” you say, eyes wide as if you’ve just hit a revelation.

Jungkook blinks.

“A man is literally the cause of all your problems and you want a boyfriend?!”

“A man, not men,” you sniff pathetically, “And okay. Maybe not like a boyfriend. But a boy-friend,” you attempt to explain as you gesture your arms.

Jungkook only stares at you like you’ve grown another head. And you don’t think it’s unwarranted. You’re aware you sound a little insane, but Marco triggered something in you that you didn’t realise could be an obvious solution.

A boyfriend wasn’t what you were looking for, it was a—

“Distraction. I need a distraction,” you declare.

“That is the worst fucking idea I’ve heard coming from you and you’re a bottomless bit of horrible ideas,” he scowls.

“Excuse me? How dare you!” you hiss, “This is not a bad idea.”

Jungkook gawks at you in disbelief, exceptionally more awake when he leans forward with a stern glint in his eyes.

“Do I need to remind you that you’re literally in love with someone?” he exasperates.

“Geez, I said I needed a distraction, not a reminder,” you mumble bitterly, folding your arms across your chest as you stare at your food.

“Listen, I know I condemn half the shit you do because it’s you but I’m really drawing the line at a boyfriend,” he blinks.

“What, are you like in love with me or something?” you snort.

Jungkook blinks at you. You stare.

He opens his mouth, then closes it.

“I’m leaving.”

Before he can abandon you, you’re tugging on his sleeve with a whine. “Okay, okay. Too far, I know.”

Jungkook glares at you as if to say damn straight before he settles back onto his chair with his stance more confrontational than you’d appreciate it to be.

“Look. This is a bad idea,” he says seriously, “You tell me over the phone that you almost told Yoongi you were in love with him in the same hour you accused him of being friends with you only to sleep with your sister. How did you suddenly jump to the conclusion that a boyfriend would solve all of your problems?”

You knew Jungkook was serious. And deep down, you knew he was right. But it wasn’t a matter of who was right or wrong, but the quickest form of conciliation that you could obtain before your heart dug a deeper hole that it couldn’t crawl out of.

The longer you think, the more you know that you and Yoongi were never going to happen. You see Instagram story updates from your sister and it’s always with him. Always with him showing his rare smile at her like it was only reserved for her. He was a busy man, a doctor, and yet—he always made time for Haerin.

It sucked to know that you were there only when he remembered you were.

“I need to move on, Jungkook,” you blink. “I know it isn’t the best idea but I don’t know what else I can do.”

“Distance yourself from him,” he hisses like it’s obvious.

It is, isn’t it? Pulling away from Yoongi to give yourself time and space to allow your heart to breathe. To stop wishing that you were your sister, to stop wishing that you were his.

But you don’t know if you had the strength to do that on your own. You weren’t disciplined. You knew what was good for you but that didn’t mean you sought for it. You were human, a vastly average human that did average things. Sometimes things were below average, too. And that meant sometimes you fell into unhealthy mechanisms, enough to allow yourself to feel something else but dread.

“Won’t this help? Meeting a new guy?” you reason softly.

“And that’s fair for the other guy? To be your rebound?”

You flinch.

“If you’re doing this to get over Yoongi, then I’m against it. As your friend I can’t just let you do this to yourself and someone else,” he says sternly.

“I’m not going to jump into marriage with him, Jungkook,” you frown, “All I’m saying is that I … start putting myself out there, you know? I’ve stayed away from dating because I didn’t want to date anyone apart from … yeah. This isn’t about me finding a rebound. It’s about me allowing myself to move on.”

“And what’s going to happen then? You drop your entire friendship with Yoongi?” You know it’s a valid question, but you haven’t thought too far. You didn’t know if you were able to bear being friends with Yoongi even after everything. But your heart and mind were tired. You couldn’t rationalise anything anymore.

“No. Do I always need a plan?” you snap, rather irritated. “If something happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. That’s life, isn’t it? Why do I need to rationalise and conceptualise all my decisions?”

Jungkook frowns, unimpressed before he’s levelling you with a serious stare.

“I’m not telling you to plan ten or fifteen years down the road. I’m telling you to think. You’re … hurting. And you’re less likely going to be making decisions that you won’t regret in the future now,” he says.

“I appreciate it, I do. But I think I know what’s best for me,” you say stubbornly, poking into your food as you peer up at him. Jungkook looks annoyed, that enough is obvious when you recognise the tick in his jaw. But what else did you do bother than vex the people around you? It was your character. A character that was hard to understand, even harder to like.

You swallow.

“I don’t need your permission,” you say quietly, “I just needed a friend.”

Jungkook’s face softens, even if you know he still disagrees.

“And you have one,” he replies, right before he slides one of his side dishes towards you. He raises a brow when you eye it sceptically.

“I’m not going to poison you, relax,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “So, who did you have in mind?”

You blink, and a small smile makes its way onto your face.

“No one. I’ll just go with the flow.”

Jungkook snorts.

You’ve met Jung Hoseok a few times.

It was hard not to notice him, really. He was either the loudest person in every room in the best way possible, or he was mingling with everybody and anybody that would take him.

You remember when you first were introduced to Hoseok, a few years back when you made your necessary appearance at one of your sister’s charity events. You were relatively young, and equally as scorned so you were huddled in your own lone corner before you were greeted with a burst of light.

“___!”

He knew your name. Of course, he did. Besides being friendly, Jung Hoseok was strategic. He was good at his job, and you suppose that a businessman meant that he needed to network as much as possible, and essentially—kiss ass.

You remember being confused, but Hoseok was so nice that you couldn’t do your usual thing and awkwardly excuse yourself to the bathroom.

You were friends. And that was only your first meeting.

But now, you think Jung Hoseok could be a little better than a friend, especially when you don’t hind your intent behind your gaze when you lock eyes with him from across the room.

Another event, you don’t know what for. You just know that your mother told you to lay low, as usual. Let your sister do the talking. You’re just here for formality.

You didn’t need to be reminded.

You sip on your drink, virgin because you wanted to be sober if anything happened.

(The last time you drank at an event didn’t end so well for you.)

Hoseok shoots you a wide smile, already excusing himself from the group he was a part of before he makes his way through the crowd, filled with intent when he raises his class to greet you.

You grin, stifling a giggle when he nearly bumps into one of your parents’ colleagues. His smile is enough to alleviate the situation, the man patting him on the back good-naturedly rather than curse him out if it were anyone else.

“Jung Hoseok,” you greet sweetly, smiling up at him with a purposeful flutter of your lashes when he finally reaches right in front of you.

“And ____,” he smirks, “You look beautiful.”

Another thing about Hoseok was that he wasn’t shy with his compliments. He was extremely generous, and he was genuine.

“Well, I’d tell you you look great but I’m pretty sure you’ve heard that a hundred times already,” you say.

“True,” he agrees easily, earning a snort from you right before he levels you with a flirty wink. “But not from the person I wanted to hear it most from.”

“Did my mother deprive you of her coddles?”

He laughs, loud and contagious. He earns a few eyes, but when they realised it’s just Hoseok, the guests go back to their conversations. That was how easy it was with Hoseok. He was a ball of contagious energy, wherever he went.

“Her daughter did,” he throws back easily.

“So, Haerin?” you tease and saying her name doesn’t feel so bad when Hoseok sighs deeply, as if bothered.

“You, sweetheart,” he corrects, leaning closer.

You’re against the bar, usually where you reside at these events. And Hoseok has you pressed ever so slightly in a way that makes you feel the heat, but not insinuative enough for anyone to frown at.

“Should’ve said so earlier,” you grin, right before you place a hand on his chest to rub down the lapel of his collar. “You look good.”

“Just good?” he pouts, pulling away ever so slightly, allowing you some space as you roll your eyes.

“Don’t want to stroke your huge ego,” you tell him, lowering your voice into a husk as you see Hoseok swallow.

Hoseok has always been handsome. His sharp features drew the attention of anyone in the room, and his impeccable style. It was both because he was rich and stylish that made him look immensely better in clothes that you were sure would look ordinary on anyone else.

He was in a simple black and white ensemble, forgoing the traditional bowtie or tie by leaving his neck bare. The top few buttons were unbuttoned, leaving the delicious expanse of his chest exposed. His hair was slicked back, revealing his forehead which made him look infinitely hotter than he actually was.

Maybe that’s why you take your leap of faith. When if not now?

“Could stroke something else, though,” you hum.

Hoseok freezes, the hand that rests on the counter behind you stilling as you swallow your pride to shoot him a demure grin.

“So now you’re looking my way?” he whispers softly, grinning from ear to ear.

“Just for tonight,” you shrug, leaning closer as you feel your chest pressed against his.

He feels unfamiliar, and that’s exactly what you needed.

“I’m a busy man, sweetheart,” he says with a raised brow.

You smile.

Perfect.

“That’s exactly what I need.”

That’s enough for him to be dragging you out of the hall, uncaring if people were staring or hypothesised what the other daughter of your family was doing while Haerin did her thing. There was a thrill in being so … careless so purposefully.

You’ve just made it out, the lobby completely empty as Hoseok navigates his way through the venue with expert precision. You were sure he had this place memorised like the back of his hand, having his own events hosted here being a successful entrepreneur himself.

He’s leading you to a room you’ve never seen occupied but was vast enough to fit ten people. You feel a tingle down your spine at the implications, and before you can think twice—you pull his arm back with force as his eyes widen, and kiss him.

“Woah there,” he chuckles, low and deep when his hands sneak around your waist before they trail to the plump flesh of your ass, squeezing them.

“Sorry,” you say breathlessly, pulling away with a cute grin. “Wanted to do that.”

His eyes darken, and he’s pulling you in, pressing you against the wall as you gasp.

His thighs dig in between your legs, firmly pressed against your mound as you whimper. He’s so quick. So agile that your head is spinning. You almost forget that you were still out in public, especially when his hand trails up to cup your tit.

“So fucking pretty, you know that?” he murmurs.

“Just pretty?” you throw back, head following your words as he presses hot kisses against your jaw.

“Greedy,” he grins, right before you feel his hand trail underneath your dress through the slit.

Your hands find their way towards his crotch, already palming his hardening member as he grunts.

“I think I’m pretty generous,” you say coyly, emphasising your point with a squeeze.

He narrows his eyes at you before crushing his lips against yours again with a dark, hooded gaze.

“I’m gonna have fun with you sweetheart,” he growls.

“I’m all yours—” you begin to say breathlessly, and the door to the room slams open—cutting you off.

Your reflexes aren’t fast enough, but Hoseok’s ones are. He immediately covers your body with his, preserving your modesty with the way your dress was hitches around your thighs, and the collar of your dress that threatens to expose your free nipples.

“What the fuck,” Hoseok exhales, and you feel him relax ever so slightly. But you’re tense.

“Hoseok,” the voice says blankly, and you feel the blood drain from your face when you immediately recognise it. You feel his stare next. “___.”

“Jesus Christ, would you knock?” he laughs tightly, pushing you behind him as you take it, digging your head into his back in mortification. “Sorry. I got—uh … a little …”

You get a peak from Yoongi, and you notice that his eyes are hardened. And he doesn’t bother hiding his gaze when he rests it directly on Hoseok.

“This is a public event …” Yoongi trails off, and you feel his eyes suddenly drop onto your figure behind Hoseok. You immediately duck your head, rubbing your lips to remove any sign of saliva. “Just—lock the door.”

You freeze.

“I—well …” Hoseok stammers, shaken by Yoongi’s clipped tone.

“We will,” you cut in, eyes firm even if you feel your body shaking.

Hoseok’s eyes widen, and when you finally reveal yourself from behind him, you see Yoongi’s gaze only fixed to your face, his jaw hardened. You don’t know what to make out of his response, but he doesn’t look the least bit moved. Eyes never straying away from beneath your face.

He stares at you, and you’re staring back at him with a sense of determinacy and a refusal to back down. Your heart still rattles against your chest, and you feel Hoseok’s soft touch against your lower back.

“Don’t take too long,” he says, tone suddenly returning to normal as his eyes drift to Hoseok’s. “Her parents will start wondering where she is.”

“I can take care of myself,” you snap.

Yoongi looks at you, and it’s just empty. Completely blank. You can’t read him yet again and here you were being riled up simply by his presence. You hate it.

But you can’t stop the way your heart wants him to show you something. So you know that he feels. That he’ll react or overreact.

Yoongi doesn’t. He never does when it comes to you.

He just nods his head slowly, before he reaches for the door again, back turned to the both of you.

“You can,” he says in response, right before the door shuts.

You just realise that you’re breathing heavily, and Hoseok’s hand shakes you out from your daze.

When you turn around, you see his face morph into a look of concern.

You don’t want pity.

You want to forget.

“Well—”

“Fuck me, Hobi,” you whisper, pulling him by his blazer as his chest slams against yours. Your voice is tinged with desperation.

“___ …” he says, suddenly hesitant. You wonder if he sees it too. The way you always reach out for a man that never quite accepts your grasp.

“Make me forget,” you whimper.

You don’t know if Hoseok thinks you’re referring to the embarrassment of almost being caught, or if he knows what you feel on a deeper level. But his gaze drifts to your lips.

As if sensing his hesitancy, you smash your lips against his own.

“Make me forget,” you repeat, already slipping off your dress.

His eyes darken, and it’s a blur from then.

You remember the squelches permeating the air, loud and lewd when he had you pressed against the door as he slams his deft fingers into your sodden cunt. You remember the way he had your legs wrapped around his head as he laps you dry. You remember the way you tugged his pants down and gagged on his cock as far as it goes, tears dribbling down your cheek. You remember the way he fucked into you, promising to make you forget with every grind of his hips.

You scream and moan his name, and the two of you don’t care that anyone could hear. You cry his name more times than you can remember in an attempt to replace the one that continues to plague your mind.

Even as Hoseok has you locking up in pleasure on his cock, cunt squeezing tightly around his shaft—you can only think of the fact that Yoongi had left.

Like he always had, to return to the person he really wanted. The person that didn’t make bad decisions. Who wasn’t selfish.

The person who wasn’t you.

You’re breathless and well-spent. Your body is satiated but your heart still hurts. And as if Hoseok senses this, he speaks up as the two of you recover from your high.

“We should do this again.”

You pause.

“Hoseok … I’m not—I don’t think …” you say softly, stammering as your eyes avoid his.

You couldn’t.

“Sweetheart, as amazing as you are, I’m not ready for that either,” he says with a tilted grin, buttoning his shirt and zipping up his pants before he helps you on your wobbly feet.

You flush. “I mean—I just … sorry,” you finish lamely.

He laughs, brushing a hair away from your face. Your heart clenches because the act is so familiar yet so distant. It wasn’t the touch you’ve always known.

“Whenever you need me,” he murmurs, “As a friend or as a relief, I’m a call away.”

Your eyes widen.

“Really?”

“Babe, as great as that was, I value you as a friend too,” he snorts as you roll your eyes at him. “Besides, you seem like you have a lot to say.”

It’s obvious that he knows, and you feel defeated, thinking that you were able to full him and yourself.

“Was I that obvious?” you mumble.

Hoseok tilts your chin up to offer you a small smile. “I got that from him, ___.”

You freeze, stunned. But before you can say anything, Hoseok is wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders.

“Say, let’s ditch and get some food,” he offers, “This event is boring anyway.”

You flounder for a moment, but Hoseok easily as you on your feet again, animatedly discussing drive-thru options as he swings his keys around. You stare at the back of his head when you walk, and you wonder if this was enough of a distraction.

A friend like Hoseok.

And you, forgetting someone like Yoongi.

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

When Margaret Atwood said, "there is something in your throat that wants to get out and you won't let it." and then Franz Kafka wrote, "And what I really intended to say in the end remains unsaid."

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

1. Clarice Lispector | 2. Egon Schiele | 3. Dylan Thomas | 4. Joseph Lorusso | 5. Jenny Slate | 6. Ron Hicks | 7. Mary Oliver | 8. Safet Zec | 9. Madeline Miller | 10. Antonio Piatti | 11. Ocean Vuong | 12. Peter Wever | 13. Richard Siken

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

a local celebrity. Brugge, autumn 2012

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

oh, oh sweetheart  i feel so much for m/c, like that desire to tell that person BUT being held back by a paralyzing fear of hearing something you know you won’t survive? So like it’s just better to be combative but yoongi’s so calm and it makes you so fucking MAD.  AHHHHH i feel for her so much. Honestly, I think she needs distance from both her sister and yoongi. You know to deal with her stuff alone, get to know herself, love herself out of the shadows of her sister and her pining for yoongi.  Yoongi will probably miss her. but he’ll understand. kind of. maybe he’ll even be proud.

back-burner | 03

use your words

PAIRING. min yoongi x reader

GENRE. sister’s best friend!au, best friend to lovers!au, sorta frenemies?to lovers!au, angst, *slow burn*, eventual smut, fluff

WARNINGS. one-sided pining (?), longing, sibling jealousy, heartache :(, stubborn oc, dare i say a hint of ... softness?

WORDS. 3.7k

You think this is the longest you’ve gone without any form of interaction with Yoongi since you’ve first met him.

Jungkook, on the other hand, takes his best friend duties very seriously, occasionally making sure that you were still alive and not wallowing in mortification after what had happened at your father’s gala. You appreciated the sentiment, especially when he stops by with some of your favourite snacks and a promise of some alcohol.

“Still no news?” He doesn’t bother with the introductions, simply plopping comfortably onto your sofa as you sigh.

“No,” you grumble, fiddling with the hem of your hoodie. You actually think it’s Yoongi’s from high school. It was probably unconscious the way that you sought for his scent even when he wasn’t around.

“Man, you really fucked up,” he whistled lowly while you glare at the back of his head. “You’re lucky that he didn’t do anything.”

Lucky. What an odd adjective to describe your predicament.

Only if Jungkook saw how Yoongi looked when he dragged you into an empty room, eyes ablaze while you stood pliant under his gaze.

You thought he was going to do something. Not physical, at least to hurt you. You trusted Yoongi with your life, even if you were being irrationally bothersome that day when you were drunk. You knew he’d never hurt you.

But when you recall the way his eyes glazed over your face, then down your neck, then to the expanse of your exposed chest—you remembered how on high alert you were, every one of your hairs erected when he drew closer.

You remember the cautious yet purposeful steps he took towards you, eyes never leaving your face while all you could do was gulp in his domineering presence. Even when he was right in front of you, closer than he’s ever been with his chest pressed against your front—you didn’t pull away.

You don’t know if you were that drunk, but you swore that his eyes flickered to your lips.

But then he was pulling away, avoiding your eyes by taking a one-eighty in his aura before telling you he was taking you home.

You expected an earful from him. A voice of reason, some form of reprimand. A warning. But you got none. And by the time he pulls up to the lobby of your apartment, he was the same, distant yet comfortable Yoongi that you always knew.

“Whatever,” you sigh before kicking your feet up onto the empty space next to you, staring mindlessly at the ceiling while a thousand thoughts run through your mind. “What’s his deal anyway …”

Jungkook snorts. “You’re asking me? Did you conveniently forget that you accused him of doing nice things for you because he wanted to kiss Haerin’s ass?”

“Of course not,” you snap, “And don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

Jungkook shoots you a pointed look before he’s turning his entire body to face you, eyes boring straight into your skull while you ignore his apparent gaze.

“Listen, even if I don’t know what the exact status of Yoongi and Haerin’s relationship is—” you scowl at his words, but even then he pushes forth, “—Yoongi isn’t that type of guy. I don’t know him half as well as you do but I know enough that he would never treat you the way he does just because your his other best friend’s little sister.”

Other best friend.

It’s a bitter reminder, but it’s the truth. No matter how much you consider Yoongi to be a dear, trusted friend in your life—you know that you’ll always come second to Haerin.

“I know,” you admit belatedly, shrinking into your seat. Jungkook gives you a small smile before he’s squeezing your knee in consolation. “It’s just … they’re perfect together …”

You hate how you sound so meek, so unsure of yourself. But you only allowed yourself this space to be vulnerable, and even if Yoongi was your best friend—someone that you’ve grown to trust; how could you ever tell him what plagues your heart and mind when it was just him?

You knew Jungkook would never judge you, and for that reason, you’re thankful that he’s in your life even if neither of you would ever admit that outwardly.

“That’s only because that’s all you’ve known to think,” Jungkook says.

“For a good reason,” you say softly, “If not each other then who?” Your eyes rest on Jungkook’s figure as you seek an answer. You knew it, though. There was no one else but each other for the two of them. “It’s always been Haerin and Yoongi, Jungkook. I’m just—just someone who he met along the way.”

Jungkook sighs. “Look, I can’t tell you what Yoongi feels because I don’t know. I don’t know how Haerin feels either. But right now, you’re beating yourself up about your own feelings because of arbitrary standards that the world has placed on all of us? I know it’s hard, but if you continue to do this to yourself it’s only going to get worse.”

You hate that Jungkook’s right. It’s a mantra you try to repeat to yourself daily, but your heart is stubborn more than your mind is—and you’ve only remained rooted in position.

“Why can’t he just …” you trail off, “Why did I have to be me?”

Jungkook frowns. “Don’t—”

The door rings, and the two of you freeze.

“Did you order something?” you ask.

“No,” he says with a shake of his head before he pushes himself off your couch. “Did you?”

“I was wallowing before you came,” you frown, “And you always bring the food!”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, finally reaching your door as his hand slowly reaches for the knob with a tentative touch. You eye his back curiously, wondering who rang the doorbell at a relatively odd time.

Jungkook turns the knob and opens the door, and the person that comes face-to-face with him sends a shiver down your spine.

“What—hyung?”

“Jungkook,” Yoongi greets impassively with a curt nod, a plastic bag in his grasp before he’s looking over the younger boy’s shoulder.

His eyes meet your widened ones as you feel yourself freeze on the spot, unable to process the fact that he was at your doorstep.

“Was I interrupting something?” he asks with a raised brow.

“No,” Jungkook blinks, and you almost call him out for his lie but you don’t. You’re still at a loss for words.

“I have food,” he mentions, lifting the bag. You wonder how he’s so nonchalant as if your heart wasn’t threatening to beat out of your chest.

It’s because he doesn’t feel the that you do.

Your frown returns as your face darts to the ground.

“You didn’t text,” you grumble.

“Did I ever need to?” he retorts, walking over to your couch with Jungkook following closely behind.

“It’s rude,” you snap, “Coming here unannounced.”

“Jungkook came here unannounced,” he says blandly, and you hate that he’s rather spot on.

“So?” you scowl.

“Your favouritism is showing,” he laments, plopping onto the space next to you as you immediately feel yourself tense up.

Jungkook eyes you sceptically, likely attempting to gauge your reaction. You briefly make eye contact as you plead with him with your expression, Yoongi completely unaware of your internal breakdown.

Jungkook seems to read you completely wrong, because he hovers awkwardly behind your couch, body language indicating something that makes your brow tick.

“I actually … got to go,” he says lamely, cocking his thumb out your door as you gawk at him.

“What the—?”

“Cool,” Yoongi says, looking up briefly in the midst of unpacking the food before offering his small, yet amicable grin. “You sure you don’t want any food?”

“You just got here,” you grit.

“No I didn’t,” he blinks, and you’re just about contemplating six different ways to dislodge his legs from his body so he wouldn’t be able to leave.

“It’s pure vodka, by the way,” Jungkook says, gesturing to the drinks he brought before he decided to abandon you like the little shit he was. “Enjoy, you two.”

Your instincts kick in, your feet immediately sending you off the couch as your arm reaches out to yank the hem of his shirt before he can depart. His eyes widen, catching your venomous stare as you feel the nerves settle when you realise that Yoongi was right behind you. As if nothing happened—and as if he hadn’t ghosted you for a literal month.

“What the fuck are you doing,” you hiss venomously.

“Giving you your window,” he replies, equally as exasperated as your jaw ticks.

“Did you not—are you fucking stupid?” you snap, uncaring if Yoongi hears. You were in a crisis!

“No, you are,” he says childishly before tugging away with all the strength he has and making a beeline for your door.

You gape at his antics, especially when he shoots you a look with his eyes that says you better talk to him, right before he gives one last wave to Yoongi.

Once the door slams, and you’re left with only the reminder of Jungkook in the alcohol and snacks he brought; you find your entire body tensing at your other uninvited guest.

You wrack your brain for an excuse to get him out of your apartment, to get him away. Even if you hadn’t seen him in so long—you needed the space. You still couldn’t properly look him in the face after what had happened between the two of you at your family’s gala, and you knew Yoongi well enough that he wanted answers from you when you were sober and not pissed drunk.

But before you can come up with anything meaningful, Yoongi’s voice breaks through your inner monologue.

“Are you gonna stand there like an idiot or come eat?”

You freeze, hands limp by your side as you take in his flat tone. He doesn’t sound particularly mad, just like himself. The same Yoongi that you’ve always known.

You hate that your heart still stutters at his voice.

“Oh, so now we’re back to being demanding?” Is what you say instead of listening to him, finally turning around to level him with a glare.

“I think you made it abundantly clear that I’m an alpha male, right?” he says dryly, uncaring at the way your ear flushes at his clear recollection of that night. “Sit your ass down and eat. I know you haven’t had your dinner yet.”

You hate how he always knows.

“There you go again,” you mutter, stubbornly plopping as far away as you could from him while you take in the smell of steak and some homemade stew.

You internally curse him because you knew that he brought this exact meal on purpose. It was your favourite.

“Eat,” he demands, and it almost feels normal.

Almost.

You begrudgingly dig into your food, pettily ignoring his eyes when they remain trained on the side of your face and the way your cheeks swell up when you shove spoonfuls of rice into your mouth. It was a distraction to the erratic beating of your heart and the fact that Yoongi hasn’t indicated any sign of being particularly displeased with your behaviour from the other night.

It’s also because he isn’t really doing anything in general. He eats in silence next to you, soft smacks of his lips to tell you that he wasn’t dead.

You wonder how Yoongi does it sometimes. Pretending like this wasn’t an awkward situation and that you didn’t say the things that you did. You were marginally thankful because you knew that the moment he’d hint at what happened that night—your walls would immediately clam up.

But, you spoke too soon because Yoongi swallows the last bit of food in his mouth before he settles his plastic plate onto the table in front of him.

“So,” he drawls lazily, leaning back into your couch as you take another huge bite of your steak. “What was that?”

“Wuh wuz what?” you say through a muffle, even though you knew exactly what he meant.

Yoongi glares at you, right before his thumb reaches out to swipe at the corner of your lip.

You nearly choke on your food, especially when he casually brings it to his lips to lick off whatever the fuck he got off from your face.

He never did that before.

And why the fuck did he look so relaxed? Your brain was whirring, and you couldn’t bear to swallow your food when Yoongi was oblivious to the screaming that you were currently doing in your mind.

What the fuck was going on.

“Your family’s gala,” he reminds, “Your tantrum. Explain.”

You finally swallow, cheeks undoubtedly flush as you gape at him.

“I did not throw a tantrum!”

“You did,” he blinks, “You called me an annoying asshole.”

“You act like that’s new,” you snort.

“No, it isn’t,” he admits before he supplements his point with a pointed gaze. “Then you said that the only reason I’m around you is because of Haerin.”

You freeze.

“No I didn’t,” you lie.

“I was literally sober when it happened,” he says dryly, “Who are you trying to fool?”

You glare at him through reddened cheeks and a petulant expression.

“So? Now you want to talk? After disappearing like a fucking ghost?”

Yoongi pauses, his entire frame locking. But it isn’t a demeanour of unsureness. It’s just Yoongi taking a breather to think; because if Yoongi was anything, he was calculated. He never said anything that was out of place, or without considering the implications of his words. It’s one thing that strikes the two of you so contrastingly.

While you were all things collateral, he was brutally calm.

“Yeah. Haerin said it’s best to give you space,” he shrugs easily.

Now, it was your turn to lock up.

And you burn. You burn so hot and so furious that you can’t think straight. Your chest clenches and it’s such a familiar feeling that you can’t find it in yourself to feel anything but the ache in your lungs. Her name is almost like a curse, something that you want to avoid but can’t.

You should’ve known.

“You really are an ass kisser,” you spit, your words coming out before you can rationalise them.

He raises a brow at the shift in your tone, and his stance is on guard when you see him shift his knee over the other.

“We’re doing this again?”

Out of all times, you really wished you could get a better read of Yoongi. To understand why he was so detached and so present at the same time. How he could view everything mechanically like he was trained to do, rather than how your heart did the acting before your brain could decide whether or not it was in place of the situation.

“You come here, after a month, only cause my sister asked you to!” you exasperate, “Of course we’re doing this again! Cause you’re proving my point.”

“Do you think I’d come here if I didn’t care at all?” he asks, and you know he’s serious.

“Does that fucking matter, Yoongi?” you sneer, “You would have turned up at all if it weren’t for Haerin! What does that make you, huh? You don’t care.”

“I meant what I said,” he says lowly, eyes peering up as you continue to run on pure fumes. “If you have anything to say, say it.”

“What’s the fucking point,” you snap, “Seriously. Yeah, I fucked up—so what? I was drunk! People do stupid shit all the time when they’re wasted!” Your attempt at rationalising was futile, you knew that. Especially when Yoongi looks unimpressed with your words. “You know, I thought we were at least friends. But no, you just want to fuck Haerin—!”

You knew you were being childish, and you couldn’t even blame it on alcohol. You were sober. Soberer than you were that night, yet the same words ring loudly in the air.

“Don’t say that,” he snaps, eyes firm when he stares at you. “I’m here because I care. Does it matter if your sister asked me to be here?”

It does, you want to scream. To tell him that it matters so much because you only did when it was at the words of your sister.

“You don’t,” you say while rolling your eyes. “You know. Yeah, we’re close. But we don’t have to be.”

You don’t know what you’re saying.

“Don’t fucking say that,” he growls, and you jump at his sharp tone. Your eyes are wide when they land on his frame, noting the way he looks visibly displeased.

“That night, you disappearing … you know what, maybe we shouldn’t be friends,” you say loudly, putting on a brave face.

You don’t know why you’re saying what you are, or what compels you to say the exact opposite of what your heart wants. Of how you feel, right now, when your chest feels heavy with regret and anguish while you’re forced to look at Yoongi while you do so.

Yoongi’s face is menacing, and you nearly gulp when your eyes meet his. They’re completely hooded, piercing through your tough face as you keep it locked on his. But you know he sees right through it because he’s leaning closer, much like he did that night as your breath hitches.

“You know it fucking sucks when you do so much for someone to only have them say shit like this to your face.”

Your brows furrow, confusion written all over your face.

“What—?”

Then, he pulls back. Just like he did that night, and his face returns to its blank state.

“Your pitch,” he says blankly as your head reels at the whiplash of character he took.

“My what?” you ask, flabbergasted.

“Tomorrow. You have a pitch to the local authorities for the NGO you’re working with, right?”

He remembered.

“I …” you trail off weakly, and Yoongi is staring at you so intently that your eyes immediately dart to the ground.

He doesn’t let you, because his hand is immediately reaching out to grab your cheek—gently, but firmly enough that all you can do is gawk at him while his thumb presses into the indent of your skin.

“You think I don’t care?” he whispers, and you wonder if he can hear your heart in your throat. “You think I do all that I do for Haerin?”

“You—“

“I know she’s your sister and you feel like you live off her but I didn’t choose to befriend you because she asked me to,” he deadpans, “You always go off about how I’m an asshole for doing this and that, and how you don’t need me. How the fuck do you think that makes me feel?”

You blink, stunned, but still unable to say anything or move with the way he keeps his hand around your cheeks, eyes still trained on yours.

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who can’t ever get the point across.”

You gasp.

“You dick—!”

“And I’m the only one that’ll ever tell you that,” he says quietly, yet so seriously that you feel yourself reel back a little.

“You don’t—what gives you the right?” you snap back weakly, trying to pry his hand off, but all that does is make him squeeze your cheeks once more.

You feel dizzy, and you can’t point out the funny feeling in your stomach because it’s paired along with that dull ache in your chest whenever you were around Yoongi.

“If you have a problem with me, you tell me. Don’t throw your tantrums and expect me to understand.”

“I don’t throw tantrums!” you growl.

“And I don’t owe you an explanation on why I disappeared and why I’m here now.”

You know he’s right.

“So either you grow up and talk to me like an adult and tell me what’s on your mind, or we can just sit here in silence and eat the damn food.”

You want to tell him so badly. And there’s something in your gut that says his eyes are almost in a silent plea. But you can’t. You can’t when your mind is hazy with visions of her, the way she looks, the way she speaks—the beautiful nature of her friendship with Yoongi that’s likely so much more than that.

The way that she’s everything that you should’ve been but isn’t.

The way that she would have never thrown your damn tantrums.

“You’re so annoying,” you say softly.

His eyes soften ever so slightly before he’s loosening his grip on your cheeks. You feel oddly lamented, but you don’t show it on your face. Instead, your tough facade returns as you glare at him.

He takes that as your answer.

“You too,” he throws back as you scowl. “Eat.”

He lets you go as you continue to shoot a sour glare at him. Only Yoongi could return to his stoic state after what you and he said to each other. But it’s always been like this. You act out, Yoongi checks you—and you fall back into peace. He’s the only one that could ever understand your erratic tendencies. To accept that you were havoc on your own.

Only Yoongi had the patience to not leave you.

You grumble, rubbing at your cheek while Yoongi ignores the clear indication of irritation posed at him.

You sit in silence, and it’s calm again. Just like after every time Yoongi cleans up your mess, picks up the fallen insecurities that even you don’t see. It’s because Yoongi listens when there’s silence, and acts when it’s loud.

“Don’t say that shit ever again,” he speaks up after a while, eyes trained on his phone as your head slowly edges up to catch his side profile.

“You’re my best friend too.”

It’s enough to make your heart flutter.

Then you realise it’s too.

Two.

You’d always be the second person. Never the first. Never the one.

You wonder when you could ever be more than that.

Your eyes linger on his face for a beat longer, and when he turns to look at you. You flush, ducking your head back into the stew as he snorts.

He brushes a hand over your hair, and for that moment—you could pretend that it was just you.

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

Loves are like empires: when the idea they are founded on crumbles, they, too, fade away.

Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being (trans. Michael Henry Heim)

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

what do you look like when you lie? | myg

↳ read on ao3 • feedback

        ❝ i grew a flower that can’t be bloomed            in a dream that can’t come true. ❞

» pairing: idol!yoongi x reader » genre: secret relationship/breakup!au, angst, very minor smut » rating: nc-17/explicit; minors dni » wordcount: 7.7k » warnings: this is pure angst and i am so sorry. infidelity, swearing, smut (nothing super explicit, but: oral sex [m. receiving], another bad handjob, very brief mentions of other sexual activities). heartbreak and the general demise of a relationship. unrequited love but not really? a canon dating scandal but make it angsty. » a/n: i’ve never written pure angst/an unhappy ending but my brain went haha wouldn’t it be so funny if we took yoongi’s dating scandal with suran and added a secret relationship and a whole lot of pain? and wouldn’t let it go so here we are. if you read this and want to yell at me my inbox is always open. thank you in advance and i’m sorry?

[now]

See, the thing is, it’s not really in your nature to nag.

Shit happens. Plans change, have always existed in this fluid state where sometimes there’s a rigid, unpermissive schedule and sometimes there’s spontaneity and flexibility and sometimes there’s nothing at all. You learned a long time ago to never really get your hopes up. Not in this business, anyway, and certainly not with Yoongi.

You’ve spent a lot of time convincing yourself that’s fine, that you’d rather have a Yoongi that broke plans and sometimes went days without responding to texts than no Yoongi at all.

It’s fine. You’ve always known exactly what you signed up for.

Keep reading

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

You can ask him to help you, of course you can. But you won’t, because it wouldn’t matter, anyways. Because thinking back, Kim Seokjin had never cared about you. He’d sent you into a den of wolves, waited patiently as Namjoon and Yoongi and Taehyung and Hoseok took their turns with you. He’d let Jimin take you.

Somehow, at this point, the only “light” I see is with Jungkook. The outtake 1 made me feel like they’re the only ones that understand each other - how to be used as pawns in the game of giants. 

Namjoon, idk, how to feel about. I think he cares for Y/N in a way, but if given a choice between the empire he built and her -- he’ll choose the empire.  Yoongi, definitely cares for Y/N in a deeper sense, beyond just being her contact. But is that enough?  Hoseok, I really think is just in it for the fuck.  Taehyung, might actually care for Y/N in a romantic i’ll save you kind of way but will he? When it really comes down to it - will he?  Seokjin, he sent her to die. Maybe not to die per se, but the danger of it -- knowing her feelings for him before? Man is really pragmatic.  Let’s not talk about Jimin hahaha, but seriously, his characterization in this is fucking ruthless.  Jungkook... well, we’ll see.  I just want Y/N to win. Whatever that may mean.

House of Serpents [6]

Summary: Straight-A student by day, Kim Namjoon’s personal toy by night, you didn’t live a terrible life. At least not until you met his six equally depraved “friends.”

Pairing: OT7 x reader

Genre: Mafia AU, porn with (little) plot

Warnings: non-consensual drug-use, dub con (if you squint) 

Word count: 4.3k

Masterlist

   [Part 5-2] [Part 7]

Ch. 5-2, abridged (for those who chose to skip): Jimin kidnaps (Y/N) and confines her in his house. Over a period of 18 days, he drugs, starves and abuses her until she’s completely broken in. (Y/N) thinks about Namjoon and Yoongi, but Jimin points out that they don’t know that she’s been kidnapped – that she already told them she wanted to leave. After 18 days, when Jimin has returned from a business trip, Seokjin finds him and indicates that he’s here to take his asset back. Jimin invites him into his house.

“Remember what I said to you, the day I took her?” Jimin asks, as he walks Seokjin through the winding corridors of his family manor. “I said I’ll let her go to you.” 

In an instant, Seokjin’s hand is inside his jacket, gripping his concealed semi-automatic. 

From the corner of his eye, Jimin glances at him, then laughs. “Please, hyung. I’m not stupid enough to kill a police sergeant.” 

“You’re never stupid,” Seokjin says, but does not let go of his gun. “And I know you keep your word, Chairman.”

“As a gentleman should,” Jimin says, leading him around a corner, where a guest room has been laid out. The room is empty, save for a king-sized bed in the middle. Just mattress and sheets. No pillows. No bedding. “But remember what you said to me in response?”

“I said I would kill you,” Seokjin recounts.

Keep reading

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

Love Language

Summary: Your boyfriend obviously loves you, but his silence has you questioning if he *wants* you. If you could only get past your damn insecurities maybe you could appreciate what you have.  SMUT/ANGST/FLUFF

Pairings: Yoongi/Reader

Rating: it’s fucking explicit. 21+

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, oral (both receiving), butt stuff (male receiving, its mild ass play during a blowjob don’t freak out), sex toys, angsty dumbass reader, sweet sweet patient saint of a man Yoongi 

Word count: 5,325

A/N: i’m sorry that nothing i write will ever be as good as Sorry, bae. Enjoy this mess anyway. ILY. 

He’s quiet. He’s always quiet. You’re a mess beneath him, all heavy panting and desperate pleas. He asks no questions, offers no endearments, the only sound he makes is his labored breath. You can barely tell when he cums. You have to watch him closely, try to catch that tick in his jaw before it happens. The only other tell is when his release starts dripping down your ass or if he goes soft. He doesn’t talk you through it, doesn’t tell you how good it feels. He’s quiet. This time is no different. You really should be used to it by now, but some small part of you sees it as failure. You wonder if he’s really enjoying himself more and more lately. He fucks you so good you can’t control the litany of filth spilling from your mouth, and somehow he remains stoic. His silence makes you feel self conscious. You tell yourself you’re not going to moan this time every time he sinks into your core. You never make it more than a few thrusts before you’re singing his praises. Doesn’t it feel that good for him?

Keep reading

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

Rabid (JJK x Reader) 🐾☁️💜🔞

🐺Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

🐺Genre: A/B/O AU!, Werewolf AU!, Angst, romance, smut

🐺Warnings: alpha!kookers and his omega!reader, impreg kink, shifting, hybrid Au, werewolf Au, bangtan pack!, primal sex, biting, scratching, scenting, marking, knotting, size kink, strength kink, praise kink oh yes, protective boi kook, Jungkook asserting dominance smh, omega being the cute ball of soft cotton candy she is, fighting, blood, violence, injuries, best alpha doggo boi Jungkook, heart to heart convos, degrading names and not the kinky ones sadly, puppies, I repeat, puppies 🐶, omega!Jin, Omega!Taehyung, Beta Yoongi, Alpha Namjoon, alpha Hoseok, Beta Jimin, don’t worry Omega doesn’t automatically mean submissive oh boy Nop Nop, just read the damn thing it’ll make sense okay, Dead Dove Do Not Eat

🐺Summary: Jeon Jungkook and his Omega are a mates couple of Bangtan Pack. Recently, the sweet bubble they’ve created seems to grow weaker and weaker, as a feral pack attacks and kills wolfs left and right. Things take a dark turn, and for once, the big bad wolf is actually terrified. Terrified of loosing you.

A pack’s life wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows, or comfort and protection.

Keep reading

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

day by day | masterpost

[하루 하루, haru haru] is the Korean word for ‘day by day’ summary; a series of drabbles about two best friends raising a child together pairing; dilf!jungkook x best friend!reader (f) genre/warnings; angst, longing, pining, mc is a homebody, unrequited love (or is it?), potential idiots 2 lovers, best friends 2 lovers, but there’s a poopy ex-girlfriend, potential toxic relationship, alcohol use, explicit language, eventual fluff, eventual smut [taglist is OPEN]

part 1; year one

01. the m-word jungkook’s baby calls you the m-word just as he and his ex-girlfriend return from a night out 

02. dr. feel good  you and the doctor in-house have a conversation about life 

03. my bestie jungkook feels guilty for holding you back 

04. awkward ohs you don’t understand why jungkook is suddenly so pissy

05. one year, my love  celebrating the first of many of haru’s birthday with jungkook (and sena)

part 2; year 3 

coming soon

final; and many more

coming soon 

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

goodbye, dignity. | kim taehyung and min yoongi

summary — there are rules to follow when you’re having casual sex, but it seems you plan on breaking all of them.

pairing — kim taehyung x f!reader; min yoongi x f!reader

genre&tags — college au, fwb au, angst!!!, bts are frat bros, y/n is emotionally-guarded (i think she’s a bad bitch, but others might call her cold), taehyung’s in denial because of course he is, yoongi’s dressed as killua from hxh so naturally he’s an agent of chaos even if he doesn’t mean to be, and also everybody’s sex-positive! yay! but terrified of commitment whoops

warning(s) — 18+, implied smut, heavy alcohol consumption (please be aware of your tolerance, guys!! always drink responsibly)

w.c. — almost 5k

a/n — if u want ur friends w/ benefits situation to work, absolutely do not do what these people do. i might make this a series if enough ppl want but for now the ending is what it is! also i keep finding myself writing more and more bts-related fics but what can we do, the muse works in ~mysterious~ ways 🤷🏻‍♀️ love u very much, enjoy as always and leave feedback in the replies

They say it takes an average of 2 months to form a habit — 66 days, to be exact.

When you think about your routine, think about the trivial things you fill your days with, the actions that become automatic after so much repetition and next steps that seem natural because you’ve done them before, you realize that, without you even noticing, Taehyung’s slot himself into it with relative ease.

You don’t have an exact answer for the when of it all, or the how, but you know he has, because when he texts you to ‘come over’ at 11:21 P.M., you don’t question it. You just think, might as well get this over with, the way you would for a morning class or a vaccination or a vodka shot. And you go over. And it’s always the same.

You’ll knock on his door, and when it opens, Taehyung’ll greet you with his warm, airy mouth clamping down on your impatient lips: no warning, no nothing. And once you’re tangled with him, clothes falling to the floor and limbs intertwining, the rest of it proceeds in chaotic order. Sometimes you’ll ride him like a demon, and sometimes he’ll drill into you like it’s his first time ever experiencing the miracle that is the female vagina. Normally, sheets will get pulled, but occasionally hair or muscles too. There’s also never any musical accompaniment to set the mood, just ragged breaths and the sound of wet skin slapping.

And when you two finish, you’ll crack a joke — something stupid and corny like, “Do you validate parking?” or “So… Do I just go out the same way I came in?” — and he’ll offer an obligatory laugh. You’ll stumble back into your jeans before daylight breaks and head out with such haste Taehyung sometimes wonders if you’re a mere figment of his imagination.

You like it this way. You get to brush over the niceties, ignore all the pleasantries, and never care if you look ugly or awkward or like someone who hasn’t showered in 3 days (hey, man, college is tough, no judgment), because Taehyung doesn’t mind, he just needs a body to cram and you need one to consume, so everybody wins.

Keep reading

[selfproducingfanfictionauthor]

Things are getting steamy!! Please add me on the tag list!

need to know 04 - MYG | M

↣ “I can’t remember what life was like before you, Y/N,” you break away from his hold to look up at his face, his eyes glistening, “please don’t leave me.”

pairing: sugar daddy!yoongi x reader

genre: smut, fluff, angst

word count: 5K

warnings/tags: strong language, CEO!Yoongi, age gap, possessive Yoongi, Yoongi is so so soft for you, heavy angst, lots of crying, mentions of smoking/cigarettes, explicit smut- masturbation, dirty talk, daddy kink, unprotected sex, creampie, heavy petting

a/n: This isn't Yoongi, it's Mr. Min, btw, a lot of you have been asking when I will complete this series, this is one of my long-term couples and I don't really have a set plot for this series, all I know is that they will have a happy ending. This isn't the end for them...

Prev | Series Masterlist | Next

∞

Pulling up in front of your apartment building, you see Taehyung standing on the sidewalk, clapping and shaking his head. You’re trying to hide the smile on your face as you park.

“Hey Tae.”

Stepping out of the car, you open the backseat door and pull out your overnight bag, a gust of wind blowing your hair into your face as a car passes by.

“I don’t see you the entire weekend, I end up cutting your birthday cake by myself and you pull up in this!”

“You’re being too loud,” you wrap your arm around his shoulder and pull him in for a hug, one he returns half-heartedly because he’s too busy admiring your shiny, new car.

“I’m guessing things went well. I don’t remember you packing that,” he points to the bag that’s tucked under your arm.

“Yeah, it’s Yoongi’s.”

“Oh, so all his shit is in there.”

“No, it’s my stuff.”

“Stuff that he bought you?”

You push past him to walk up the stairs, “yes why?”

“Just asking.”

Unlocking the front door, you rush into your room and start to rummage through your cupboards, “did you do the laundry?”

Taehyung leans on the doorframe, “yes, I did. You’re welcome.”

“Where’s my black sweater?”

“Bottom drawer.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you going somewhere?” He questions, but you’re rushing out of the room and into your bathroom to grab some toiletries.

Yoongi said he’ll pick you up in half an hour so you could get dressed for the dinner at his place.

“Yeah,” you tuck your hair behind your ears, digging in your makeup bag, “I’m staying over at Yoongi’s for the rest of the week, and he invited me to one of his business dinner things.”

He walks into the bathroom with folded arms, “really?”

His tone makes you glance up at him, “yes, really…Why do you say it like that? I thought you liked Yoongi.”

“I do, I just…don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Why would I get hurt?”

You jog into your room, Taehyung following close behind, “I don’t know. I just- have to show you something.”

You’re looking up at him now, a little worried at his pensive expression, “what?”

He pulls out his phone from his hoodie pocket, you walk up to him and peek into it, seeing him click on a link. He hands you the phone and chews on his nail.

Your eyes widen when you see a picture of Yoongi and a woman with long, black hair on the screen, the headline catching your attention more than the picture itself.

“MIN YOONGI AND LEE YOUNGMI SPOTTED TOGETHER MONTHS AFTER BREAK UP. WILL THEY FINALLY TIE THE KNOT THIS TIME?”

Your heart begins to pound in your chest as you continue to read the article, discovering that Yoongi and Youngmi were dating for over three years until they broke up this year due to unknown reasons. A reliable source had said that they were so in love, Yoongi had mentioned on multiple occasions that he would marry the young CFO.

Wordlessly, you hand the phone back to Taehyung who seems more nervous than you.

You push your jacket off the bed and sit down with a huff, trying to recall if Yoongi ever mentioned a Youngmi. Why wouldn’t he tell you about her if they were dating for so long? He spoke about his other ex-girlfriends before, how it never lasted because they were always after his money.

Taehyung sits down next to you, the bed dipping with his weight.

“I’m sorry, I just thought you should know.”

“When did the article say they were together?”

“Last Tuesday.”

You nod to yourself, remembering that Yoongi said he had an important meeting to attend that day while you were busy revising in the library.

“You’re gonna see him later, right? Just ask him about her,” Taehyung wraps an arm around your shoulder, your cheek pressing against his chest.

“I wouldn’t have been worried, but the article said that they were in love, and we just confessed to each other…”

“What?!”

Taehyung pulls away and grips your shoulders, his eyes frantic, “you confessed?”

“Well, he confessed first…I think, I can’t even remember anyway, so much happened this weekend.”

Your mood is a little deflated after reading that article. Why wouldn’t Yoongi mention his ex-girlfriend of three years, three years. He looked so happy in that picture, gummy smile in place while her hand is placed on his shoulder.

“Well,” Taehyung sighs, “you can’t believe everything you read on the internet.”

“But it was a reliable source,” you pout.

“I know but just ask him, communication is key, remember?”

Nodding, you sink to the floor and shove your clothes back in the cupboard.

“I have to ask him before tonight.”

“It’s important, right? If it’s a business meeting?”

“Business dinner, that’s what he said,” you correct, stuffing some underwear into the bag.

Walking over to the dresser, you grab the car keys and toss it next to Taehyung’s lap, “you can drive that. He’s coming to pick me up in a bit.”

“Really?”

He springs from the bed, his eyes wide in shock as he inspects the keys.

“Yeah, just don’t- crash it or anything. I trust you,” you’re wagging a finger at him.

Skipping over to you, he wraps his arms around your shoulders, you bury your face in his neck, his cucumber scent filling your nose. You know that he hates asking his friends to drive him around because they always fuss about it, and he can’t afford to buy a car right now, neither can you.

“Thank you, Y/N!”

“Hey angel.”

“Hey.”

You click in your seatbelt and stare at the pavement, waiting for him to drive off. The car idles and he doesn’t drive off onto the road, you turn your head to see him staring at you, his lips in a pout.

“No kiss?”

Chuckling, the sound dead to your ears, you lean forward and watch his eyes flutter shut, only for you to turn your head and let his lips press into your cheek.

You pull away, and stare out the window, “let’s go.”

You can’t help the way you’re feeling right now, you and Yoongi have just made things official, you just put your heart on the line, and you had to read that damn article. But you know that Yoongi won’t lie to you, he won’t hurt you like that. You need to get to the bottom of this before it’s too late, before you fall deeper in love with him.

The drive to his house is quiet and once you reach, you turn to open the door only for him to lock it again. You lean back in the seat.

“We aren’t going in until you tell me what’s up.”

Refusing to meet his gaze, you keep your eyes on the front door of his house.

“Y/N.”

You hum, still staring at the wood.

He tsks and puts his index finger under your chin, making you face him, your gaze flickering out the window.

“Look at me,” he demands, the tone in his voice making your eyes snap to his, the worried look in his eyes unhidden.

“Tell me what’s wrong, angel,” he intertwines your fingers.

“Who’s Lee Youngmi?”

You watch his expression of worry contort into something unrecognizable. It’s his turn to stare out the window.

“My ex.”

You pull your hand away from his, “the ex you never mentioned, the ex you met up with last Tuesday.”

“I never mentioned her because it wasn’t important.”

“Wasn’t important?!”

Your voice catches in your throat, “I think someone you date for three years, someone that you’re still seeing is important.”

His gaze locks with yours, “I’m not seeing her, it’s just business.”

“Okay,” you nod, sucking your lips in, “then why didn’t you ever talk about her? You talk about all your exes and business partners.”

“I told you, I didn’t think it was important.”

“Yoongi,” you breathe, trying to quell your despair, “this weekend was amazing, the best weekend of my life, I think. And I was hesitant until last night to carry on with our arrangement but you asked me to be yours and I happily accepted because I have-“ you wipe a tear that spills over “-all these feelings for you. But I don’t know if this can work if you aren’t honest with me. We lead two completely different lifestyles, we’re on two different levels, it makes everything more difficult if you aren’t honest with me.”

“Y/N,” he cups your cheeks in his palms, thumbs rubbing your tears away, “don’t cry angel, please. You know I have feelings for you too. But some things are complicated-“

“You still have feelings for her?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Then what is it?” You sob, scanning his face as you place your palms over his hands that are still cradling your face.

He sighs, his minty breath hitting your face, “I didn’t tell you about her because we only broke up a few months ago. A few weeks before I met you. It was an on and off kind of thing. To be honest, I was only with her because-“

He clears his throat, “At first it was all nice, then I got tired of her ways. It isn’t important baby, please,” he lets go of your face to bring your hands to his lips, “you have to believe me.”

You’re full-on sobbing now, even more after he kisses your forehead, “you looked so happy in the picture.”

“What?”

Sadness swirls in his eyes, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

“In the picture I saw on the article, you looked happy.”

He scratches his neck, “that must’ve been an old picture, angel. Look up old articles of us together and you’ll see them pop up.”

“I don’t want to,” you pout, and he grins, combing his fingers through your hair.

“You don’t need to, angel.”

You bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent that is his. The scent that causes you to feel calm and safe, his warmth locking you in.

“I can’t remember what life was like before you, Y/N,” you break away from his hold to look up at his face, his eyes glistening, “please don’t leave me.”

You press a kiss to his chin, “I won’t leave you.”

“Can we kiss kiss this time?”

Grinning, you place your hand on his jaw and tilt your head, his gaze fixed on your lips, “yes we can.”

His hand flies to your waist as his lips press to yours, tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip, the wet muscle swirling in and tasting every inch of your hot mouth.

Sliding his tongue over yours, his fingers curl around your neck, pulling you closer when a gasp leaves your lips. Breaths mingling, you feel his hand travel down your neck and over your clothed breasts, pushing up the hem of your shirt, his warm palm smoothing up your stomach to rub your perked nipple with his thumb.

You moan into the kiss, languidly moving your lips over his while he continues to play with your nipples. You rub your thighs together and he notices, pulling away with your bottom lip between his teeth.

You struggle to open your eyes, giddy from having his soft lips on yours. When you do, you’re met with Yoongi’s blown out pupils, chest heaving as he squeezes your boobs under your shirt.

Withdrawing his hand, he takes yours and guides it to his crotch, gasping when you feel his hard cock pressing into his jeans.

“Only you can do this to me, Y/N,” his voice is gentle, timid, like it’s a secret just for the two of you.

Breathless yourself, you lean forward to capture his lips again but he’s pulling away.

“Let’s go inside.”

With a peck to your lips, he grabs your bag from the boot and takes your hand in his, walking through scenic garden as you make your way to the door.

His butler opens the door once you reach the step.

“Good day, Mr. Min, your father is on the line. He sounds a little frazzled.”

Yoongi sighs and guides you into the lounge, pushing your hair back to place a lingering kiss on your cheek.

“I’ll be with you in a bit. Go get ready for tonight, hmm? I picked out a few dresses for you but you can choose the one you like.”

You bring his hand that’s still holding onto yours to place a kiss on his knuckles, “thank you.”

As you walk up the stairs, you see that he’s still looking up at you while walking into his office, he blows you a kiss and your heart beats erratically, giving him a smile that could only be described as lovestruck.

When you walk into his closet, you see five different outfits hanging on the railing, the tags still on. You don’t know which one to choose, they’re all so beautiful.

You pull out a black dress, the neckline is beaded all the way to the back, the georgette material soft to the touch. Putting it back on the rack, a white jumpsuit catches your eye. You know that Yoongi’s favorite color is white. The detailing on the front is exquisite, from afar it almost looks like a dress with how the pants billows out, turtleneck with a small cut in the cleavage are.

Walking out of his closet and down the hallway, you hang up the outfit in the guest room and set your bag on the dresser in the corner.

You don’t know what you did in life to deserve someone as kind-hearted as Yoongi. Now that things are official, you told him that the arrangement should be off, that he should stop buying you things. But he insisted that you being his girlfriend only makes him want to spoil you more.

You can hear someone speak, so you take a peek out the window to see Yoongi walking down the path in the garden. He seems to be deep in conversation, his hand tracking his speech as he crouches down to sniff a flower. Smiling to yourself, you realize that you’ve never seen Yoongi in jeans before. He looks sexy in the denim material, his blond hair parted in the middle, making you chew on your lip in desire.

He disappears down the path but the throb between your legs remains.

Tentatively, you shut the door and kick off your pants. Lying back on the bed, you spread your legs and shut your eyes, your hand traveling down the valley between your breasts to your stomach then to the wet patch on your cotton panties. Images of Yoongi fill your mind as you rub your clit in tight circles, the friction not being enough.

Dipping your hand into your panties, you rub the pads of your index and middle finger through your folds and into your slit. Coating your fingers in your juices, you bring it up to your clit, gasping Yoongi’s name as you flick the bud from side to side, imagining his tongue suckling on it, working you up until you’re cumming all over the pink muscle

Nimble fingers moving over your clit, you pinch your nipple through your shirt, back arching when you feel the tingling sensation build, your core clenching as you think of Yoongi’s cock stretching you out.

“Yoongi,” you cry.

“Started without me?”

Your eyes fly open, seeing Yoongi hovering above you with his jeans halfway down his legs, his cock standing proud against his shirt.

“As much as I enjoyed your little show-” he pulls your hands away from your body, pinning one next to you on the bed and bringing the other up to his face, popping your wet fingers into his mouth while you squirm “-daddy’s here to take care of you now.”

You whine at his words and lift your hips off the bed, earning a low chuckle from him.

“Need daddy’s cock?”

“Yes,” you moan, watching his lips stretch into a smirk.

“But you haven’t been a good girl. Only daddy is allowed to make you cum.”

Your eyes widen, not wanting it to be a rerun of the last time he left you aching for him.

“No please, make me cum. Please daddy.”

Taking both your hands in one of his, he pins them above your head while he wraps his hand around his cock. You salivate, precum leaking from his angry red tip, veins prominent.

“Since you asked so nicely, angel.”

He taps the head of his cock on your clit, making you cry out, jolts shooting up your body with each touch.

Lowering his body onto yours, he covers your mouth with his as he pushes into you slowly, the pleasurable stretch of his cock making you moan into his mouth. Suckling on your top lip, he bottoms out, the tip of his cock brushing the sensitive spot inside of you as he pulls out of you.

Each drag of his cock against your walls causing more of your arousal to coat his length. With a groan, he pushes into you again, slow and deep with each thrust, feeling your high approach quicker than usual from being so close earlier.

“Fuck you gonna cum already, angel? Cum for daddy.”

His strokes are slow and purposeful, making sure to reach that spot inside of you with each thrust, his name slipping from your lips as you feel the stirrings of your orgasm. Your core clenches uncontrollably, but the delicious stretch of his cock isn’t enough to tip you over the edge. You wiggle your wrists in his hand but he doesn’t let go, his hips still slapping against yours.

You open your eyes and plead with him but he shakes his hand and flattens his body onto yours, his pelvic area rubbing your clit, the final push that you needed over the edge. Your body spasms in his hold as he helps you ride out your high, his name tumbling from your lips, before it starts to ache and you whine.

“Almost there, angel, fuck, so tight.”

With a hiss, his hips moving a little faster than before, he spills inside of you, white, hot cum shooting into you.

He lets go of your wrists and places a kiss on each of them then lays down next to you, his gummy smile infectious as you smooth down the strands of hair on his neck.

Wiping you down with a damp cloth, he reappears and snuggles beside you on the bed.

He pulls you into his arms and you realize that your lower halves are naked only. Your heart starts to beat at a normal pace, almost drifting off into a peaceful sleep until he speaks.

“We have two hours to get ready.”

Oh yeah. The dinner.

You’d be lying if you say that you aren’t nervous, it’s a business dinner after all. What would you be doing there? A soon-to-be accountant giving her two cents.

“Don’t be anxious angel,” his palm rests on your head.

His telepathy.

“It’s just going to be a few of the people I see almost everyday, well not all of them.”

Your wrap your arms around his waist and breathe in his scent.

“Okay.”

“I’ll be by your side the entire time.”

Smiling, you look up at him and kiss his cheek.

“Remember, you’re my girlfriend.”

You still need to get used to him calling you that because your cheeks begin to heat, and your heart picks up its pace again.

“Okay.”

“And uhm, my ex will be there.”

“Okay.”

He hums. You startle when he sits up from the bed, “get up lazy, we have to shower and get ready.”

He starts to put on your pants then grabs his jeans from the foot of the bed.

You yank his arm, “hmmm no let’s cuddle for a little while longer.”

His shoulders shake as he laughs, “I don’t want to arrive late. I’m known for my punctuality.”

Sitting up on your elbows, your lips brush his as you speak, “oh really, Mr. Min?”

You grin when you see the apples of his cheeks turn pink, like he wasn’t just referring to himself as ‘daddy’ a few minutes ago. He didn’t seem to have this reaction when his butler called him that. His eyes catch on something behind you, and he stands up from the bed.

“You liked this one?”

Following him to the clothing rack, you pluck out the dress and hold it up to your chest while inspecting it in the mirror. He comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

“I think you’ll look amazing in it,” he kisses up the curve of your neck, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling.

Abruptly, he steps away from you, “no, no, we need to get ready. Stop distracting me, angel.”

You shrug, “Can’t help it, Mr. Min.’

Again, you see his face flush red, a smirk making its way to your face, finally knowing what gets him flustered.

You were calm as you showered, calm as you got dressed, calm as you did you hair and makeup, calm as Yoongi held your hand in the car while driving but now, now you’re freaking out. The sheer size of the hall making your throat close up, you grip Yoongi’s arm a little tighter.

He whispers in your ear, “I’m right here, angel. I’ll just introduce you to a few people, dinner begins in half an hour.”

As soon as you walk through the entrance, a face, you wish was unfamiliar, appears in yours and Yoongi’s line of sight. Long black hair matching her skin-tight dress.

She hugs Yoongi then takes you by surprise as she wraps her arms around your body too, she’s much taller than you.

“Y/N, I heard so much about you,” she holds your hands in hers and you shoot Yoongi a stunned glare.

“Really?” Because I’ve heard absolutely nothing about you.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Yoongi here can’t shut up about you.”

You’re a tiny bit happy to hear that, coming from a successful, gorgeous woman whose ex is your current boyfriend.

Yoongi clears his throat and pulls you away from Youngmi, “I need to introduce her to a few people. Nice seeing you, Youngmi.”

“You too, Yoongi,” she gives you a bedazzling smile as Yoongi drags you away.

“She’s nice.”

He hums, waving over a tall man with tan skin, a younger woman, who seems to be around your age, holding his hand.

“Y/N, this is Kim Namjoon and Hyejin. This is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

Hyejin steps forward and hugs you, you hug her back. She smells floral and friendly.

“We’re finally getting to see you,” Namjoon cackles, two deep dimples denting his cheeks, “All Yoongi can talk about these days is Y/N.”

“So I’ve heard,” you squint your eyes at Yoongi, he coughs and tries to hide his gummy smile.

Before you can fill in the silence, Yoongi is pulling you away from the couple and you give them an awkward wave.

“They seem sweet."

Anyone can see that Hyejin is younger than Namjoon, you did notice the huge diamond adorning her ring finger.

He introduces you to a few other people, most of them are much, much older than you. Some men look like they’re close to retirement.

You’re walking to the refreshments table when Namjoon and Hyejin call Yoongi over.

“I’ll be back in a bit, you enjoy,” he gestures to the hors d’oeuvres and kisses your temple.

Scanning the food, everything looks so abstract, you don’t want to accidentally eat an olive then end up spitting it out and embarrassing yourself in front of all these high-class people.

There’s an indecipherable murmur around you, getting louder as the minutes pass and soon, the entire hall is filled with probably thirty people. Some business dinner.

You move around the refreshments table when a conversation behind you grabs your attention.

“Did you see Min Yoongi and his girlfriend?” The woman emphasizes the last word, you move a little closer to the sound of their voices to hear better. You are the topic of conversation.

“He brought his play-thing to a business meeting? Didn’t think he was the type.”

You can feel the blood rush to your ears, a lump forming in your throat.

“I give it a few months until he gets back together with Youngmi.”

“Months? I give it weeks, a girl like her won’t last with someone like Min Yoongi. Even if she’s young and pretty, it won’t be long before he gets tired of her.”

Uncaring of who’s watching, you sprint out of the hall, holding up your pants as your ankles ache, stilettos clicking on the tiles. You hiccup, wiping your cheeks with the backs of your hands as you run down an unfamiliar embankment. This whole place is unfamiliar. And dark. You see a bench on your right under a small light and you walk to it, breathing heavy as hot tears stain your cheeks.

You know that those women are being bitter, that you shouldn’t take what they said to heart, but why does it hurt so much?

Because you’re in love with him, that’s why.

Your head hurts and you take off your heels, rubbing your ankles as a quiet sob escapes your shivering lips.

“Y/N?”

You look up to see Youngmi standing behind the bench, a cigarette in hand, the end of it burning a bright orange as she puts in between her lips.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?”

You think you can tell her, it’s what she probably knows already.

“Yoongi, they-“ you point in the direction of the hall “-I won’t last.”

She sits down next to you on the bench, “what is it?”

“They- they said we won’t last, Yoongi and I. That I’m a play-thing.”

You spit the words out and she sighs, putting out her cigarette on the edge of the wood.

“That’s what it’s like. To be with Min Yoongi,” she folds her arms over her chest, you watch her closely, sobs dying off as you cross your legs on the bench.

“I was never enough, never enough for him, for his parents, for anyone. Why do you think I said no when he asked me to marry him? It’s too much, too much pressure,” she shakes her head and your eyes widen.

She said no? He asked her? How much can you trust this woman?

“Y/N,” she turns to you, “you’re in college, am I correct? Studying accounting?”

You nod.

“If I were you, I’d enjoy my college life instead of attending these boring meetings with my boyfriend. The same boyfriend that will indirectly impose certain standards on you, societal pressures that become too much and even if you do follow those standards. It still won’t be enough.”

You blink at her, the words stumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it, astounded at the statement.

“But I love him.”

She nods more to herself than you, “that isn’t enough either.”

Standing up from the bench, she pulls out a box of cigarettes from her purse, “think about what I said. The only thing a pretty girl like you should be crying over on a weeknight is-“

“Y/N!”

Yoongi is running toward to you, panic written all over his face.

“Remember what I said, Y/N!” Youngmi yells and Yoongi looks at her retreating figure a little puzzled.

He crouches down in front of you and holds your knees, trying to look at your face but you turn your head to the side, knowing that if you look at him just once, it’ll make what you’re about to do a whole lot harder.

“Baby what’s wrong? Dinner is about to start, aren’t you hungry?”

His hand comes up to touch your face, but you stand up and he follows your movement.

“Yoongi…I-I can’t be with you,” you’re biting down on your lip to stop it from quivering.

“What?”

“I can’t be with you anymore. It’ll never work out between us..”

His hands smooth up and down your arms, “hey, stop saying that. It will, it will work out between us. Just like it did for Namjoon and Hyejin. I told you that I have feelings for you, so much feelings. Sometimes I can’t even breathe-“ his voice cracks and a single tear rolls down your cheek.

“I have to go,” you break out of his hold and walk away from him toward the front gate.

You pull out your phone and dial Taehyung’s number.

You’ve had doubts since the beginning, but he kissed them away with his sweet touches and words. But to hear it from someone who was with him for three years, only brought those doubts back in a flurry, clouding any sense of reasoning. If she, someone who is up there with him, wasn’t enough for him, then how could you, a broke, college student be with him?

You hug yourself as you wait for Taehyung to pick you up, chest aching when you think of Yoongi, the sweetest man you have ever known. The man you gave your whole heart too, only for it to suddenly be hurting in his hold.

“What did you say to her?”

“The truth,” a puff of smoke surrounds Youngmi as she leans on a pillar.

Yoongi scoffs, “so you told her how you cheated on me? Multiple times? How I was in the dark the whole time we were together, and I had to find out from my own mother that you had someone else?”

“I saved the girl from your family, Yoongi. You know they’ll never accept her.”

“How do you know?” Yoongi steps into her personal space but immediately regrets it, the thick smell of nicotine invading his nostrils.

“Because it’ll only be worse for her than it was for me.”

Yoongi chuckles bitterly, “no it won’t.”

He walks away toward the hall entrance, not before shouting over his shoulder, “I actually fucking love Y/N and I’ll do anything to get her back.”

a/n: this isn't the end. Feedback is appreciated.

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back-burner | 01

sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete?

PAIRING. min yoongi x reader

GENRE. sister's best friend!au, best friend to lovers!au, sorta frenemies?to lovers!au, angst, *slow burn*, smut, fluff

WARNINGS. one-sided pining (?), longing, sibling jealousy, alcohol consumption, drunk rambling

WORDS. 2.8k

NOTE. hey ya'll!!! sorry for being a lil MIA 😓 things have gotten super busy recently but I managed to whip out a lil wip and plan for a lil drabble series hehe. I'll probably add the tags along the way so it's hard to say where this will go lol but I hope you enjoy!!

unedited :-( !!!!

"You're staring again."

Jeon Jungkook is a lot of things. Capable, talented, your self-proclaimed best friend, a multi-faceted tech developer, and handsome. What he wasn't, however, was helpful.

"Wow, thank you for letting me know. It's as if these aren't my own eyes that are doing said staring you speak off," you snap sarcastically, tipping the last bit of vodka and rum down your throat as you wince at the burn.

"That smart-ass mouth isn't going to shift reality," he retorts, snatching your glass away as you glare at him.

"Haven't you heard of manifestation? Speak it into existence, they say," you babble on, mumbling to yourself as you slump further down the plush leather seats.

The gala was beautiful, as usual. Rich and accomplished people alike were mingling with one another while their charming smiles reflected off marble surfaces to highlight their apparent brightness. It was both blinding and exhausting to constantly be surrounded by such greatness, especially to a point where people approached you thinking that you were equally as capable of it.

You weren't, and you don't think you'd ever be.

"Hm, sure." Jungkook rolls his eyes at you dismissively before he considers your words with his eyes looking upwards thoughtfully. "Maybe if you actually acknowledged your feelings then something could happen."

You scowl, drowning yourself lower to a point where your face is nearly squashed under the weight of your shoulders, your face morphed into an expression that's commonplace for you. You don't acknowledge the disapproving stares that a few of these socialites give you when they pass you, affronted to witness a woman like yourself allow herself to look as loose-ended as you were.

"Who says I'm not acknowledging it?"

"No one," Jungkook blinks before he's turning to where your line of vision ends, and you're bitterly reminded of what he was referring to when your eyes settle on them once more. "But the fact Yoongi's clinking glasses with Haerin in hand says something."

"So?" you snap, shifting back into a comfortable position before you're waving a waiter down for more booze. "They can do whatever they want."

"And if that's each other?" Jungkook asks with a raised brow.

You stomp on his foot as he yelps, sending you a lethal glare while you return his gesture with a sickly plastic smile. You don't bother listening when Jungkook begins muttering curses under his breath, and neither do you care about Yoongi or Haerin and how beautiful they looked together. Or how your heart was never with you when he was around, always two steps further than where it should've been. No. You don't care.

Jungkook pushes himself off the seat before shooting you one last once-over accompanied with a deep sigh before he's retreating to where the rest of his peers lay. You had no qualms of him leaving you, in fact, you appreciated the space. You rather be alone now, anyway.

"Another vodka and rum, please," you request from the waiter that bends ever so slightly to catch your order.

"Again, Miss ____?"

You don't appreciate the look of surprise on the waiter's face. You don't even remember if you've ordered from him previously, but the fact that he's sending you very judgemental eyes tell you enough; and your booze-hazed mind sends your mouth running before you can think of giving the man a break.

"Listen, Steve, my father didn't rent out this entire venue for you to micromanage my drinking habits, okay?" Your eyes narrow at him while his eyes widen.

"No Miss, that's not what—"

"Not what you meant?" you snort, "Come on. I've heard better. Just give me my damn alcohol and—!"

"Sorry, Steve." A voice interrupts apologetically as you recognise it immediately. Your body tingles with warmth at the low baritone of your newly joined guest, but you're still a little too drunk to comprehend it. "I'll take care of her."

Steve leaves, bowing apologetically before shooting you an annoyed expression that you think was meant to be kept to himself. You're just about to climb out of your seat to give him a piece of your mind before a large hand wraps around your waist to drag you back to your seat.

"What the—?"

"Having fun?" When you look up, Yoongi's shooting you an amused smile. It's nothing ostentatious, but it's Yoongi. A little cold but genuine nevertheless. You hate that despite your alcohol-fueled mind, your heart still flutters.

"Go away, Yoongi," you grumble.

"Can't do," he chuckles before he's releasing his grip around you.

You scoff. "Go away. I don't need you micromanaging me either."

"Not micromanaging," he hums, right as he occupies the vacant seat that Jungkook's left. "I care about your liver."

"Do you," you sneer.

"Matter of fact, I do. And so do your parents so I'm doing them a favour by not giving them a heart attack when they find out you're hospitalised because you had alcohol poisoning," he says pointedly as you scowl, "Did you even eat?"

"Yes," you lie.

"An entré from two hours ago doesn't count," he deadpans.

You sigh before you're glaring at him through your drunken eyes.

Yoongi doesn't look mad. You don't think he's capable of being anything but the tempered person he was. Rather, he looks amused, as if your clear distaste for his assistance humoured him than annoyed him like any other person. But Yoongi wasn't like everyone else. You disliked people in general and you didn't like Yoongi.

And unfortunately for your stupid, puny heart, it was the exact opposite of what you felt.

"Come on," he urges you with an extended hand, "You got to eat."

"Who are you, my dad?" you groan.

Yoongi levels you with an unimpressed look before he's making an effort to wrap his palm around your arm himself. You shiver at the contact, distracting yourself from the way your heart stammers in your chest to shoot a menacing glare at the man before you.

"No, I'm your friend and I care about you," he says easily before he's bringing you up with him when he stands up.

You yelp, dizzy on your feet as you stumble into his chest. Yoongi already has his arms extended, prepared for your inebriated stance when his palms rest on your waist to balance you out. He's warm. Cosy like your favourite blanket while all you wanted to do was snuggle deeper into his embrace. But when you peer up at him and see his concerned stare, one that was undoubtedly platonic, you feel yourself scowling at the harsh reality check.

"Aren't you busy?" you sneer bitterly, cocking your head to the side from where you remembered him and Haerin engaged in a rather amorous discussion.

"With your sister?" he raises a brow, "Your father called her over."

You scoff.

Of course. The only reason he was here and the only reason he ever spoke to you was that your sister wasn't available. It was always as if you were the second option, a convenient emblem to gravitate towards when he couldn't get the real thing. It was a bitter thought, that you only ever knew of Yoongi because of Haerin.

You would never be anything more than what you currently were to him.

Yoongi was older than you, as old as your older sister and that meant you watched him graduate before you, get his drivers license before you, attend prom before you. All of the things that you considered milestones in your life. And the worst part was that he did it all with Haerin by his side. The proof of their blooming friendship was there in the pictures of her room, on her social media pages and the friendly relations that both your families had with each other.

You first met Yoongi after a particularly strenuous day in middle school. You were just getting to know the concept of teenage angst and responsibilities when you came back home, exhausted from the load of homework your teachers had assigned you right before your final exams.

Haerin was already at the dinner table at that time, caught up in her senior assignments while she typed away on her laptop.

That time, Yoongi appeared.

You remember stopping in your tracks when you spotted the new guest, dark fringe covering his forehead while a beanie rested on his head. He had a large hoodie on that covered his rather narrow build, but he was still taller than you and your sister. You didn't know who he was, but you weren't blind. He was gorgeous. The prettiest boy you've ever seen and you befriended enough band kids throughout your life at that point.

When Haerin notices you awkwardly hovering by the door, only does she offer you a small smile as a greeting.

"Hey." It's friendly enough, but when she looks over to Yoongi, then to you, you gulp. "This is Yoongi. We're working on a project together."

When Yoongi finally looks up, his eyes are warm and friendly, but they hold a rather cold edge to them. One that sends a shudder down your spine as you quickly blurt out an introduction of your own before you're scampering off to your room.

From then on, the rest was history.

You and Yoongi grew closer the more Haerin and his friendship bloomed. What started as a group project eventually blossomed into a friendship that they labelled as 'forever'. Yoongi was always kind to you, offered to drop you off places, gave you advice when you were the one dealing with senioritis; explained 'adult' concepts like taxes and insurance to you when you were curious; fixed the engine in your car for you when it failed you in the middle of nowhere, and he even was the one that accompanied you to get your wisdom teeth extracted.

Yoongi wasn't just Haerin's best friend, but yours too. The difference was that the two of them were clearly more than that while you were forced to watch.

So when you return back to reality, eyes slightly unfocused when they rest on Yoongi's face, you're disgruntled in the reminder of where you stood, and who you were to him.

"Of course," you say with an eye-roll before you're pushing yourself off of him, "Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself."

Yoongi frowns at your stubbornness, especially when your words don't ring true when you take a shaky step away from him, ready to establish distance. Your head still spins but you rather get away from everything when you were loose-lipped than have Yoongi hold his friendship with Haerin over your head like a silent victory.

"Clearly not," he sounds displeased when his hand wraps around your bicep to turn around, "You're drunk."

"And you're being annoying," you snap, "Just—go—back."

You emphasise your points by shoving your finger into his chest, and now when your rage clears your mind ever so slightly, you nearly groan at how devastatingly handsome he looks tonight.

Suits complimented Yoongi's physique beautifully. Especially ones where his dress shirt was tucked in his pants, paired with a silver-toned belt that cinched his waist. The goddamn YSL black blazer that drapes over his shoulder only makes him broader, and you curse the Gods above for making him frequent the gym more recently.

"Don't be stubborn," he sighs, tightening his grip on your bicep.

"Don't be pushy," you throw your words back, huffing while you scowl at him.

"You're drunk," he reminds you gruffly, "Your sister would kill me if I let you go off like this."

And there it was.

You shove his grip off you with as much force as you can as you seethe. Yoongi's eyes widen at your blatant display of strength, especially when your eyes are livid when they rest on his stunned expression.

"Of course you're doing this for Haerin," you scoff bitterly while Yoongi just looks confused. "Guess what, Yoongi? I don't want you doing shit for me because you feel obliged to my sister to take care of her little sister. I'm responsible for myself and not for this hero complex you have, or if you want to impress her. Go fuck yourself and leave me alone."

"What are you saying," he says levelly, unimpressed.

This is the first time you've seen Yoongi look rather ... displeased.

Sure, he's looked annoyed before. He was only human. But this expression on Yoongi looks nearly blazing, and if you were any soberer, you'd drop it. But you weren't, and your mouth moves at its own accord.

"What I'm saying is that you have your head so far up her ass that you don't see anything in front of you!" you exasperate, throwing your hands up in the air. You're mildly aware that your voice is rising and that a few other people were beginning to take notice of your developing argument with Yoongi.

"Listen, let me take you home and—"

You interrupt him with a deprecating laugh, mostly to yourself as you shake your head in disappointment.

"Are you stupid? Do you not know how to take no for an answer?" you ask in disbelief, and Yoongi actually glares at you at your clear jibe at him.

"____, don't test me," he warns.

You snort, waving him off just as you see Jungkook enter your peripheral. Your friend looks rather alarmed and he's making his way over in a hurry, but you're quick with your words.

"Ooh. I'm so scared," you pout, peering up at him through your eyelashes before you're rolling your eyes at Yoongi's stone-faced expression. "Fuck off, Yoongi. Go back to my sister because that's clearly where you belong."

"____—" you hear Jungkook approach you with worry, voice a pitched higher before he's attempting to intercept your and Yoongi's conversation.

"I can deal with it," Yoongi says bluntly.

"Hyung, she's drunk and she's not in her—"

"Oh, I know. But whatever she wants to say to me she can say it to my face," Yoongi laughs tightly before you're scoffing at him.

Jungkook looks panicked, eyes darting in-between the both of you as you find power in driving Yoongi up the wall. Especially when this is the first time you've ever seen him anything less than composed.

"Really? Let me start, then," you smile plastically.

"Do enlighten me," Yoongi blinks.

"Guys I think—"

"You're an annoying asshole," you sneer, poking his chest while your eyes stay trained on his unchanging expression. "You act like you care about me when all you really care about is making yourself look like a good man in front of my sister."

"You're drunk—!" Jungkook hisses, squeezing your shoulder in warning as you drunkenly shove his hand off of you.

Yoongi remains blank in his face and that only irks you even more.

"You always come in and rescue me when you think I need saving but you don't care if I get into trouble! You never do! All the shit you do is cause—cause you want to fuck my sister, want to be this big macho saviour—"

"Okay, that's enough," Jungkook snaps, clamping a mouth over your mouth as you thrash in his hold.

The look on Yoongi's face is menacing. Your eyes widen when you note that it's terrifying that he doesn't move an inch, not even when his eyes slowly drift onto Jungkook's figure attempting to silence your muffled shouts under his palm.

People are staring, but you couldn't care less. Not when Yoongi raises one lone brow that has you shuddering.

"Let her go, Jungkook."

Jungkook freezes, and you take that moment of weakness to bite his hand as he yelps and retreats his palm.

"Ha! See? You're trying to embody this alpha male character," you snort as you feel Jungkook melt helplessly behind you.

"Am I," Yoongi blinks, unamused.

"Duh," you say obviously before rolling your eyes. "You know what. Just fuck right out of here and leave me alone. Let me know if you get into my sister's pants for what you did to me, yeah?"

"Follow me."

Jungkook freezes. You freeze.

And it's all because Yoongi has never sounded like that before.

Like he's threatening you.

"W-What?" you stammer, eyes rapidly blinking.

"We're going to talk," he says calmly, taking a deep breath before he's turning on his feet.

His back is turned to you when you gawk at him. "W-What makes you think I'm going to listen to you?"

Yoongi stops for just a beat, hands stuffed in his pockets when the silence quite literally makes your throat dry.

"Because ..." he says in a low tone as you feel your breath hitch, "The shit I'm going to say and do to you isn't going to be in front of an audience."

He throws you a cold look over your shoulder as you nearly cower at his gaze alone.

When he strides forward, you feel compelled to follow. And you hate that your mind decides that you are.

When you turn to Jungkook, he's as pale as you are, but all he can offer is a weak pat to your shoulder.

"Good fucking luck."