"Who the h**l are you?" The woman demands, rising to her black stiletto-clad feet, her eyes raking intrusively over Hyora's form. When she stands to her full height it dawns on Hyora just how much taller the other woman is. Even if she wasn't wearing those uncomfortable looking shoes, she would still easily be staring down her nose at Hyora with those dangerously sharp eyes. The woman is dressed a short black cocktail dress, and the long silver earrings sparkle in the light as she tilts her head challengingly, "And what the h**l do you think you're doing in oppa's room?!"
"I-" Hyora's throat closes around the words in panic as she tries to frantically process the situation. This woman is acting like she belongs in here-- like she's been in here a dozen times. And now that Hyora's stopped to think about it, there's absolutely no way the woman could have gotten past security without one of the members' explicit permission. So she's gotta be one of the boys' friends, right? Or a date? Or- a hookup, maybe? Though most of the members have long ago agreed that random hookups aren't safe to bring back to the dorm, so maybe not that.
If this woman is indeed a friend, then it probably wouldn't hurt to tell her exactly who Hyora is. But if she's just a date, or a casual fling... Yoongi and Hyora's relationship isn't public, and they'd like to keep it that way.
"I'm a f-family member." Hyora decides to answer. And really, it's true. She is legally Yoongi's family. But the woman doesn't need to know the details of her association with Yoongi. Still trembling from the aftershocks of fear, Hyora tries to calm herself down as she motions with the basket, "I was- I was just going to get-"
"You're lying!" The woman growls, taking another aggressive step forward, Hyora's heart skips in her chest at the undiluted hate filling this woman's eyes, "You don't look anything like any of them, you b****!"
Well, at least she has a point. Hyora doesn't have features similar to any of the members-- her eyes are too large, nose too sharp, voice too soft-- everything about her is not nearly attractive enough to be a sibling or even a cousin to one of the famously handsome members of BTS. But Yoongi thinks she's pretty enough, and that's all the confirmation Hyora needs. She's Yoongi's chosen family, so even though the lady has a point, Hyora stands her ground.
"I'm not lying," Hyora states as calmly as she can, voice embarrassingly quiet, "I live here. I-I was just getting the laundry from Hope-ah's room."
"You were- oh," The woman's face flashes in realization, her eyes flickering down Hyora's form before a spiteful sneer spread across her pretty features, "You're the resident w***e, aren't you?"
Taken aback, Hyora looks down at herself. She's wearing her pajamas-- a pair of soft black silk shorts and one of Yoongi's sweatshirts from high school. The shorts aren't too sensual or anything-- they cover enough that Yoongi doesn't mind if she wears them around the house-- but the sweatshirt is so humongous on her tiny frame that it falls down to mid-thigh, covering up the soft shorts completely. Admittedly, if Hyora didn't know she was wearing the shorts underneath, she does look a little scandalous.
But that doesn't give this woman the right to call Hyora such derogatory things. Hyora's never been promiscuous in her entire life-- she's only ever slept with one man (a remarkable thing, nowadays) and that man is no less than her own husband. But hearing the term directed at her is unexpectedly painful, like sharp claws slashing through Hyora's carefully constructed self-esteem.
Trying not to show how intimidated she feels, Hyora hides as much of her body as she can by holding the empty basket in front of her.
"I'm not-" Hyora's voice breaks, her eyes falling to the ground no matter how hard she tries to raise them. Yoongi always encourages her to be brave and stand up for herself. She and Yoongi have risen pretty high in the food chain, and she's not supposed to let anyone trample on her ideas and feelings anymore, but Yoongi's soft words fall to the back of Hyora's mind as she succumbs to the familiar sensation of fear. Hyora feels so small, like a pitiful creature beneath the sharp point of the woman's heels. Her shoulders curl in some pitiful form of self-preservation; her lungs devoid of air as she chokes out an explanation, "I really am f-family. I was just coming to c-collect the laundry. I didn't know y-you'd be here."
Apparently that's the wrong thing to say, because the woman's face grows even more furious.
"You have no shame." The woman hisses, white teeth flashing from behind her blood-red lip stick, "No shame at all! It's one thing to debase yourself to be groupie, cleaning up their s*** just for the hope of getting their attention."
"It's not like that!" Hyora tries to interject, but the woman only steps closer into her space, her eyes blazing with some sort of self-righteous fury, "I'm not a-"
"But you're worse than that!" The woman spits, hands clenching into fists as she stares in disgust at Hyora's half-hidden bare legs, "You're a desperate home-wrecking sl**!"
"I'm no-!"
The sharp sound of the woman's palm hitting her flesh rings in Hyora's ears. The gasp that leaves Hyora's mouth is instinctual-- her head snapping to the side as her face burns with pain. The woman's nails caught on her skin, and Hyora trembles a she feels the torn skin flare with pain. Her eyes sting with unshed tears as Hyora's hand flies to cup her quickly inflaming cheek, the basket clattering to the floor as she reels with the shock.
The pain almost doesn't feel real. It feels like a nightmare-- one of the hundreds Yoongi's shaken her awake from. But Hyora's skin is burning with a pain that can only be real, and she feels the illusion of safety crumble around her.
"How dare you!" The woman roars, looming over Hyora's cowering form, "How dare you try to lure him into bed when you've been so blatantly dismissed! You know perfectly well he has me now, you b****. You thought you'd sneak in here when I was gone and lure him back to you, but he doesn't need your pathetic a** anymore when he's got a proper woman!"
"I don't w-want Hope-ah," Hyora croaks, feeling almost drunk with terror as her mind constantly replaces the woman's raging face with her father's. She tries to back away from the woman, but she miscalculates where the door is and slams her left shoulder blade into the wood frame with a pained wince, "I w-was-- laundry."
"Don't think for a second that I'd believe that," The woman sneers, reaching out to fist some of Hyora's black hair near the base of her skull. She hanks Hyora's head up, ignoring the smaller woman's whimpers of pain, "Everyone wants him. I've had to fight tooth and claw to get here-- there's no way I'm giving up my rightful place with Hoseok oppa to a weak thing like you. Hoseok loves me! He could never want someone so ugly and s****y."
Hyora's heart splinters in her chest at the words. Her father always called her things like that; ugly, useless, weak-- a waste of time, money and space. That isn't what Yoongi thinks of her, is it? He always tells her he loves her, and how beautiful she is. He always compliments her work, and encourages her. He doesn't think she's... He doesn't-- does he?
Hyora shoves the thought away. Yoongi married her for goodness' sake. If Yoongi thinks something is too revealing, he always tells her or swaddles her in one of his hoodies. And on top of that, he'd never degrade her.
With shaking hands, Hyora tries to pry the woman's wiry hand out of her hair, but the woman only pulls harder.
"As soon as he gets home, I'm going to tell him what you tried to do." The woman hisses, nails painfully sharp against Hyora's scalp, "I'm gonna tell him what a desperate w***e you are, trying to break us apart. I'm gonna have you blacklisted from every club, bar, company-- everything. I'm gonna ruin you for trying to take him away from me!"
YOU ARE READING
Entitled | my.g
Fanfiction"You're my wife." Yoongi growls, "I say you're plenty entitled to start as much drama as you want!"
