ˏˋ main yahaan hoon ࿐ྂ
"I'm in the lights of your eyes, you see me wherever you look"
summary: in which you meet Sano Manjiro a month before your wedding and fall in love. you didn't realize you fell in love with him till the pre-wedding rituals began.
pairing(s): bonten!mikey x desi!reader
notes: title translates to 'I'm here'. a purely self-indulgent fic based on Veer-Zaara(2004)'s song Main Yahaan Hoon if Veer was a gang leader and was actually at the wedding instead of Zaara hallucinating him. line dividers by rookthornesartistry heart divider by cafekitsune
warnings: infidelity, cheating, arranged marriages, implied emotionally absent parents, emotional blackmail, suggestive themes, implied oral(f), manjiro carries reader, slightly open ending
word count: 5690
Your father was a politician, businessman and just well very rich. You’re his only daughter so he spoils you rotten. Giving you all the things you can ever want. He was a good man, your mother a great person too. However, it wasn’t a very emotionally fulfilling relationship. You were okay with it though. Jewels and clothes sated the ache in your heart even if it was temporary. You got engaged almost as soon as you turned of age. The man was just a little bit older and also a politician like your father. Arranged marriages were common in your culture and you had never dated before anyway. It’s about a month before the wedding you meet Sano Manjiro. You aren’t sure what he does but he’s also really rich like your father. He has a few close business associates and they all have matching full moon hanafuda tattoos. Sanzu Haruchiyo let you trace his tattoo for some reason after seeing your fascination with it.
Bonten were business associates of your father. You weren’t sure exactly for what but you also couldn't care less. They were all pretty fun people. You made them watch Bollywood movies with you and do a whole bunch of other things and they did it without any complaint and seemed to enjoy it as well. They were all cool and then there was Sano Manjiro…
Sano Manjiro was different from the rest. He had a quiet intensity about him, a presence that demanded attention without a single word. You noticed his eyes first—dark, deep, and endlessly contemplative. He was always observing, absorbing everything around him with a sharp, discerning gaze. Despite his quiet demeanour, there was something undeniably magnetic about him. At first, you thought he wouldn’t be putting up with your childish games but he proved you wrong. When you called him a stupid idiot he didn’t get mad but instead, he smiled. He was amused. For some reason, it surprised you because he didn’t seem like the type to smile or just show any kind of emotion in general.
Your father, of course, invites them all to your wedding. It was all fine but you don’t want to marry your fiancé. He was nice at first but there was something about him that put you off. You didn’t like that man. You sit in your father’s office in your engagement outfit while music echoes from the bottom floor of the mansion to the top. A white lengha with intricate embroidery adorns your figure with a full-sleeve blouse along with a diamond necklace gifted by your future mother-in-law and a matching tikka in the same style resting in the center of your forehead. Your dupatta is draped over your head and right now it feels too heavy. Although you and your fiancé were already engaged, your mother-in-law insisted on having a flashy ceremony to kick start the wedding week. “You’re my only child… Hence, I’ve pampered you and given you freedom” Your father says, his hands clasped behind his back and using his businessman voice “I haven’t raised you like a girl but like a boy”
There is a lump in your throat. You know if you speak you’ll cry. Your father walks toward you. “Usually the mother has to explain to her daughters about her duties. But since I think of you as my son, I’ll explain your duties to you”
You look up at him. You’re sitting in his chair the same way you would when you were a child. But unlike back then, your bare feet press flat against the hardwood floor. “You already know that your grandfather was a respected politician. But he died a few days before he could attain success. Since that day, as his heir, I’ve been trying to take his party to great heights but I’ve been unsuccessful so far” He says and you know already what he will say next “But with the help of your finacé’s father, I can attain that success”
You don’t feel too good. The lump in your throat gets bigger and you desperately try to swallow it. Your father turns your back to you, staring at your family picture. “Soon you’ll get married into their family. It’s your duty…” He pauses and turns to look at you again “...to understand the importance of this relationship. Spread happiness, whether the times are good or bad and strengthen the bond of every relationship and to protect the honour of both families at all costs. A small mistake or a bit of carelessness from your end could ruin everything… I hope you understand what I’m trying to say.”
He knows, he knows, he knows. Your father had a feeling you no longer wished to marry the man you were betrothed to. You swallow the lump in your throat and whisper out a pitiful “yes.”
“Is there anything you wish to say?”
You simply shake your head no. You couldn’t. You had to marry this man even if you didn’t want to. Your father was practically begging you without actually begging. He smiles. “Come here”
You stand up, your anklets jingle with each step you take. “It’s been so long since I saw my daughter smile,” He says as you now stand in front of him “I hope you haven’t left it in Japan”
You smile weakly. How were you to tell him you did? How do you tell your father you left your heart in Japan? He pulls you in for a hug and a single tear runs down your cheek.
You did not wish to marry the man you were promised to but you didn’t want to break your father’s heart either.
Your father leads you down the large marble staircase, the railing covered with flowers and the entire bottom floor decorated lavishly. The vibrant colours and festive sounds of the pre-wedding celebration fill the air, yet your heart feels heavy with an unspoken sorrow. As you descend the staircase, your eyes scan the crowd, seeking a familiar face—a face that brought unexpected joy and confusion to your life. In the midst of the lively guests, you spot Sano Manjiro standing quietly at the edge of the room with his associates. He is dressed in beige slacks and a silk back button-up shirt, his presence commanding even in the bustling environment. His eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, the noise around you fades. His gaze, deep and inscrutable, seems to reach into the very depths of your soul. The rituals proceed with the grandeur expected of such an event. The music, the dancing, the laughter—all blend into a blur as your mind drifts back to the times spent with Manjiro and his associates. The times when you could be yourself when you laughed genuinely and felt a connection beyond words. Sanzu Haruchiyo, always mischievous yet kind, had once teased you about your fascination with their tattoos. “Do you want one too?” he joked, letting you trace the lines of the intricate hanafuda design.
You had laughed, but deep down, there was something about those moments that felt more real than anything else in your life. As you and your fiancé exchange rings, you feel Manjiro’s eyes on you, a silent support that gives you strength. The night progresses, and you find yourself stealing glances at him, your heart aching with an unspoken truth. You didn’t want this arranged marriage. You wanted something more, something that only he seemed to understand.
It feels stupid though. It’s probably a simple infatuation but oh you had never felt this way in your life before and even as your fiancé slides the engagement ring onto your finger, the only thing that goes through your mind is Manjiro.
You sit alone in your room late at night on your bed, too lazy to sit at your dresser. Your dupatta was carelessly discarded at the foot of your bed as soon as you entered your room, too lazy to even remove your lengha and get in bed. The day had been tiring. You start to remove your jewelry, starting with the large diamond necklace that felt way too heavy. It’s as you are taking off the tikka from your forehead that someone enters. You don’t need to look up to know who it is. The air shifts, and the familiar, intense presence washes over you. It’s Manjiro. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, his voice soft, almost a whisper.
You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. He steps closer, his movements silent on the plush carpet. He doesn’t say anything else, just stands there, watching as you fumble with the clasp of your tikka. Your fingers tremble, and the delicate piece slips from your grasp, falling onto your lap. “Let me,” he offers, reaching out. His hands are gentle but firm as he takes over, carefully removing the tikka and setting it aside.
His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel a warmth spreading through you, melting the anxiety and sorrow that had been weighing you down. “Thank you,” you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible.
He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s a question in his gaze, an unspoken query that you can’t quite decipher. The silence between you is heavy with words left unsaid, emotions unacknowledged. “Why did you come here?” you ask, needing to break the silence, to understand why he’s here, why he makes you feel the way you do.
“I needed to see you,” he replies simply, his gaze steady. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
His concern touches you deeply, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes. You blink them back, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. Manjiro sits down next to you, being careful to not sit on your skirt. He reaches over and starts to remove your earrings. Despite his fingers being calloused and rough, his hands are gentle. He touches you like the slightest touch might break you. Each brush of his fingers against your skin feels like a promise, unspoken but powerful. You sit there, letting him help you, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over you. The weight of the day's events begins to lift, replaced by the warmth of his presence. When he's done, he sets the earrings aside and meets your gaze again. His eyes are filled with something you can't quite name, something that makes your heart beat faster. “Let’s get this off, hm?” Manjiro’s hand reaches around you and tugs the strings on the back of your blouse free
Your breath catches, but you nod, trusting him implicitly. The fabric loosens, and you feel the pressure on your chest easing. He helps you out of the heavy, ornate lengha, his movements were careful, his eyes never straying where they shouldn't. This was wrong. So wrong. You were a damn cheater. But as Manjiro unzips your blouse and pulls it off your arms, you can’t find yourself to care. “‘Jiro…” Your breath is shaky as he lowers your bare body down
“Don’t worry” he whispers, a heavy hand cupping your cheek so tenderly
Something in your head tells you it’s been years since this man was tender to anyone. Your breath hitches at the touch of his roughened palm against your cheek, a stark contrast to the softness in his gaze. Manjiro's thumb gently brushes away a stray tear that you hadn’t realized had fallen, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that seems to pierce through your very soul. "I shouldn't be here" you murmur, your voice barely audible, a mix of fear and yearning.
It was a little stupid you were even saying that since it was your own room. "But you want me here" he counters softly, not a question, but a statement of truth.
The words hang between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. Your heart beats wildly, torn between duty and desire. You don’t reply, unable to deny the truth in his statement. Manjiro’s presence is intoxicating, a dangerous allure that you find impossible to resist. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin. "Tell me to leave, and I will," he whispers, his lips so close to yours that you can feel the heat of his words. "But if you want me to stay…"
You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. The choice is yours, and you know what your heart wants. "Stay" you breathe, barely more than a whisper, but enough for him to hear and without missing a beat he slides your engagement ring off your finger
Manjiro doesn’t take your virginity that night. Instead, he calls you a good girl for saving yourself for after marriage and then gets down between your legs and ravishes you.
The next morning was the Haldi ceremony. In the ceremony turmeric paste would be smeared on your face and oil on your hair. It was more of a fun kind of thing anyway and during all the weddings you have attended in the past, all the guests would end up getting the turmeric paste all over themselves while playing around with it. You were wearing a yellow salwar kameez with flowers embroidered on the top and your dupatta was bright pink. You sit on the ground by the pool while your cousins hold up a heavier more embroidered dupatta over top of you like shielding you from the sky. “Don’t put too much” You warn your dad as he smears some of the turmeric paste on your cheek
There is oil dripping down your forehead from when your cousin decided he wanted to be funny and poured the entire bowl on your head. Tumeric paste is smeared on your feet, arms, cheeks and nose. The vibrant colours of the ceremony blur together, a swirl of yellow and pink, laughter echoing around you. Yet, despite the cheerful chaos, your mind is elsewhere, drifting back to the previous night. Manjiro's touch lingers on your skin like a haunting melody, one you cannot shake off no matter how hard you try. Your father's laughter brings you back to the present, his smile wide as he steps aside for the next relative to apply the turmeric paste.
As the ceremony continues, you feel a pair of eyes on you. You glance up and catch a glimpse of Manjiro standing a little away from the festivities, his usual quiet intensity softened by a hint of something tender. He stands apart from his associates, watching you with an unreadable expression. For a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you. The noise of the ceremony fades, replaced by the silent conversation happening between your gazes. Your heart beats faster as you remember his whispered promises from the night before. His words, his touch—they haunt you, make you question everything you thought you knew about your life and your impending marriage. You know it's reckless, dangerous even, to let yourself feel this way. But you can't help it. Not when his presence brings you a sense of peace and belonging you’ve never felt before. “This stuff smells weird” Koko comments as he crouches in front of you and smells the turmeric paste on his fingers before smearing it on your cheek “Are you sure this is safe for your skin?”
“Of course it is” you reassure with a smile
The rest of Bonten does the same. Finally, it’s Manjiro’s turn. He crouches down in front of you, an unknown emotion swirling in his eyes. Without a word, he takes the yellow paste and smears some on your right cheek then the left. His touch is gentle, yet it sends shivers down your spine, the same way it did the night before. The world around you seems to disappear as he smooths the paste over your skin, his eyes never leaving yours. The silence between you is filled with unspoken words, emotions too raw to be expressed in the midst of the celebration. Your heart pounds in your chest as his fingers linger on your skin, his touch both comforting and electrifying. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, his voice so low only you can hear.
His words are simple, but the intensity behind them makes your breath hitch. "Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the noise of the celebration.
You feel a blush creep up your cheeks, mixing with the turmeric paste. He offers you a small, almost shy smile, and for a moment, you see a vulnerability in him that he usually keeps hidden. You bring your hand up and smear the paste on his cheek too, making him laugh. His laughter is a rare sound, rich and deep, and it reverberates through you, filling your heart with warmth. You can't help but smile in response, your fingers lingering on his cheek for a moment longer than necessary. The world around you resumes its chaotic pace, but the connection between you and Manjiro remains, a silent promise amidst the noise and colour of the celebration.
As the Haldi ceremony continues, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions. The weight of your engagement ring, now conspicuously absent from your finger, feels like a liberation and a burden all at once. You glance at Manjiro again, finding comfort in his steady gaze. It’s as if he understands the turmoil within you without needing to ask.
As the ceremony comes to an end and the guests start to leave, you struggle to pick your dupatta off one of the chairs with your turmeric-covered hands. “Damn it” you mutter and look around for someone to help you
“Here you go” Rindo picks up your dupatta for you
You sigh in relief. “Thank you. Can you help me go up to my room?”
It was going to be a task going up to your room while covered in turmeric paste so you needed help. Rindo nods and offers you his arm, guiding you carefully through the crowd and up the stairs. The turmeric paste makes everything slippery, and you're grateful for his steady presence. As you make your way to your room, you can feel Manjiro's eyes on you, a silent promise of his support and understanding. Once inside your room, Rindo helps you sit on the edge of your bed, his touch careful and respectful. “Do you need anything else?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.
You shake your head, offering him a grateful smile, your eyes lingering for a moment of the front of his throat where the full moon hanafuda tattoo it etched then you look back up at his eyes. “No, thank you. I’ll manage from here.”
Rindo nods and leaves, closing the door softly behind him. You sit there for a moment, the events of the day and the night before swirling in your mind. You know you need to wash off the turmeric paste, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Manjiro. Eventually, you stand and make your way to the bathroom. The warm water washes away the turmeric, leaving your skin tingling and fresh.
Later that night was the mendhi ceremony. Your hands are covered in intricate designs of flowers and swirls made with henna all the way up to your elbows and your feet with the same. “Ma~” you whine to your mother who was too busy talking to her sister to feed you
Your mother laughs, a twinkle in her eye as she waves you off, engrossed in her conversation. You sigh, looking at the plate of food in front of you, and then at your hands, which are still wet with henna. The intricate designs are beautiful, but they make it impossible for you to eat on your own. You glance around the room, hoping to find someone to help you. Your eyes meet Manjiro’s from across the room. He’s standing with his associates, but his gaze is fixed on you, a soft, knowing smile playing on his lips. Before you can beckon him over, he starts to walk towards you, effortlessly weaving through the crowd. He kneels down next to you, his presence a comforting weight. “Need some help?” he asks, his voice low and warm.
You nod, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Yes, please. I can’t eat with this on.”
Manjiro picks up the spoon and gently lifts a small portion of food to your lips. His movements are careful, and deliberate, as if this simple act holds profound significance. You open your mouth, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. As he feeds you, you catch the subtle smirk on his face, and you can't help but smile back. “This is quite the look for you,” he teases, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Covered in henna and unable to eat by yourself.”
“Shut up,” you mumble, your voice playful. “This is supposed to be a special time, you know?”
“It is,” he agrees, his tone softening. “And you look beautiful.”
The sincerity in his words makes your heart skip a beat. You chew and swallow, the taste of the food mingling with the warmth spreading through your chest. Manjiro continues to feed you, the moment intimate despite the bustling celebration around you. Each spoonful feels like a silent promise, a shared secret that binds you closer together. “Food is spicy…” He murmurs
“You don’t like spicy food?” you ask him
He shakes his head no. “I like the sweets though… After you get married bring me some in Japan?” You laugh softly, the sound mingling with the music and chatter in the room. “Of course,” you promise, a warmth spreading through you at the thought of sharing such a simple pleasure with him. “I’ll bring you all the sweets you want.”
Manjiro's smile widens, a rare glimpse of genuine happiness on his usually stoic face. “I’ll hold you to that,” he replies, his gaze steady on yours. “But only if you promise to come back soon.”
The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you find yourself nodding before you can even think. “I promise,” you say, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
The rest of the mendhi ceremony passes in a blur of laughter and music, but the memory of that moment with Manjiro lingers, a silent promise of things to come. As the night draws to a close, you find yourself reluctant to leave his side, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment.
It’s as you lay in bed and stare at your henna-stained hands, searching for your fiancé’s name among the intricate designs. But as you scan the patterns, your heart sinks, and a furrow forms on your brow. The once-clear inscription has been smeared beyond recognition, lost amidst the swirls of henna. A mix of emotions washes over you—relief, guilt, and a pang of sadness. Relief because it feels like a sign, a small reprieve from the impending marriage you’re dreading. Guilt because you know you shouldn’t feel relieved, and shouldn’t be hoping for a way out of a commitment you made. And sadness because despite everything, there’s a part of you that still longs for the simplicity of what could have been. You trace the faint outlines of the henna design, your mind swirling with conflicting thoughts and emotions.
The bond between you and Manjiro grows stronger with each passing moment, a silent promise of a future you never dared to imagine. But the reality of your situation weighs heavily on your shoulders, reminding you of the duty and obligations that bind you to your fiancé and your family.
With a heavy sigh, you curl your fingers into fists. The events of the day replay in your mind—the stolen moments with Manjiro, the whispered promises, the shared laughter. Despite the uncertainty of the future, one thing is clear—you’re falling for him, and there’s no turning back.
The next night is the ladies' sangeet. It’s the last thing left and the next morning is the wedding. You sit with all your female relatives as they sing and dance to old folk songs. You sit among them, a forced smile plastered on your face, your mind drifting to thoughts of the impending wedding. Tomorrow, you'll be bound to a man you don't love, forced into a life of duty and obligation that feels suffocating. When no one is looking, you stand up and hed to the backyard where most your male relatives are, drinking away as usual. You can see Ran has unfortunately been cornered by one of your drunk uncles and is explaining Punjabi politics to him. Ran looks at you for help but you just grin and shake your head. You spot Manjiro walking over to you and you smile at him. “Hi” You say as you walk through the garden together, you anklets jingling with each step you take.
"Hi," Manjiro replies, his voice low and warm, a stark contrast to the chaos of the sangeet unfolding behind you. His presence brings a sense of calm, a welcome respite from the suffocating atmosphere of obligation and expectation.
You walk through the garden together, the soft glow of lanterns casting a warm light over the flowers and foliage. The air is filled with the sweet scent of jasmine and roses, a stark contrast to the heavy perfume of the crowded hall. You feel a weight lift off your shoulders with each step, the knot of anxiety in your chest slowly unravelling in his presence. "Having fun?" Manjiro asks, his gaze steady on yours.
There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation. You shake your head, a wry smile playing on your lips. "Not exactly," you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "I feel like I'm suffocating in there."
Manjiro nods in understanding, his expression sympathetic. "I can imagine," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper “Japanese weddings are not this… festive or colourful. Must be a little overwhelming”
You nod, grateful for his understanding. "It's not just that," you confess, your voice tinged with frustration. "It's the weight of expectation, the pressure to conform to tradition and duty." You pause, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "I feel like I'm being suffocated by it all."
Manjiro listens in silence, his gaze unwavering as he takes in your words. There's a depth to his understanding, a sense of empathy that makes you feel seen in a way you haven't felt in a long time. "I know what it's like to feel trapped," he says finally, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "To feel like you're living a life that's not your own."
His words strike a chord within you, resonating with the turmoil you've been feeling. "Do you ever wish things were different?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
Manjiro's gaze softens, a hint of something tender in his eyes. "All the time," he admits, his voice filled with honesty and you watch his hand come up to touch the full moon hanafuda tattoo on the back of his neck "But sometimes, we have to make the best of the hand we're dealt."
You nod in understanding, a pang of sympathy tugging at your heart as you take in the vulnerability in Manjiro's words. His admission resonates with your own feelings of frustration and longing, the desire for a life beyond the confines of duty and expectation. "But that doesn't mean we have to give up hope," you say softly "We can still fight for what we want, for the freedom to live our lives on our own terms."
Manjiro's gaze meets yours, a flicker of something akin to hope dancing in his eyes. "And what do you want?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper, as if afraid to voice the question aloud.
You hesitate for a moment, the weight of your desires heavy on your shoulders. “I… I don’t know yet”
And Manjiro simply smiles at your answer and says “well clock is ticking… better hurry up and figure it out” then turns to go back to where he was sitting with your father, other business partners and relatives
As Manjiro walks away, leaving you alone in the tranquil garden, his words linger in the air, a gentle reminder of the urgency of your situation. The weight of expectation and duty presses down on you once more. You watch Manjiro's retreating figure, his silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing stirring within you. Despite the uncertainty of the future, one thing is clear—your heart is leading you towards him, towards a life of freedom and possibility.
You turn back towards the bustling sangeet, the music and laughter spilling out into the night air. Tomorrow is the wedding, the final culmination of weeks of preparation and anticipation. But as you rejoin the festivities, your mind is elsewhere, filled with thoughts of the man who has captured your heart and the future that awaits.
As the night wears on and the sangeet draws to a close, you find yourself lost in a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, apprehension, and a simmering sense of rebellion— something you shouldn’t be feeling. Tomorrow, you'll be bound to a man you don't love, forced into a life of duty and obligation. But tonight, in the quiet solitude of the garden, you allow yourself to dream of a different future, one where you're free to follow your heart, no matter where it leads.
As the first light of dawn breaks over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the garden, you feel a sense of anticipation stirring within you. In a few hours, you’ll be married. It’s scary. So scary and you feel sick. You sit in a yellow kameez and white salwar, fingers trembling as you put on the naath, hooking it to your nose and fixing the chain over your ear to see how you look in it. The cool metal of the jewellery rests over your lips that you’ve bitten raw. Your makeup lays untouched, face bare. You need to start getting ready.
It’s the early hours of the morning, not many are awake except the servants who are getting the house ready. Your deep red wedding lengha is draped over your bed and seems to be mocking you. Your fingers linger on the intricate embroidery of the deep red lehenga, but the touch brings you no joy, only a sense of resignation. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, the naath adorning your face, you can't help but feel a sense of disconnect. The woman staring back at you seems like a stranger, a mere shell of the person you once were. The weight of the impending marriage hangs heavy in the air, suffocating you with its inevitability. It’s suffocating, and overwhelming, and you find it hard to breathe.
But then, amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a sense of determination takes root within you. You refuse to let fear dictate your future, to surrender to the expectations of others. You may not know what lies ahead, but you know one thing for certain—you can't go through with this marriage. Your father may love you and only want the best for you but you are not a pawn in his plan to rule the world.
Gathering your courage, you make a decision—to follow your heart, no matter the consequences. It won't be easy, and there will be challenges ahead, but you refuse to let fear hold you back any longer.
As you slip out of your room after grabbing your yellow dupatta, the quiet of the early morning enveloping you like a comforting embrace, you feel a sense of liberation wash over you. It’s just as you make it past the hall, your anklets unfortunately still jingling with each step(you probably should have taken them off), you come face to face with Manjiro, Sanzu and Rindo. “Hm? And where do you think you’re going?” Manjiro asks and his hand comes up and lifts the naath up then lets it fall back in place resting over your upper lip
You freeze, caught off guard by the unexpected encounter. For a moment, you're at a loss for words, your mind racing to come up with an explanation. But as you meet Manjiro's gaze, you see something in his eyes—a flicker of understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the turmoil raging within you. "I..." you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "I don’t want to get married"
The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of your confession. You expect judgment, condemnation, but instead, there's only silence. Manjiro's gaze softens, a hint of something tender in his eyes as he reaches out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “Hm?”
You let out a shaky breath, henna-covered hands clenching at your sides. “You asked me last night what I wanted and this is what I want…”
There is a moment of silence. Manjiro looks back at Sanzu and nods and the latter pulls out his phone, frantically typing away texts. “C’mon then” Manjiro says and sweeps you off your feet in the same way the male leads in Bollywood movies would
You aren’t sure how things will turn out but as Manjiro carries you down the marble staircase and into a car, you don’t think about anything else. Just him. Manjiro’s arms feel solid and reassuring around you as he carries you down the marble staircase, the weight of your decision becoming lighter with each step. The early morning light filters through the windows, casting a golden hue over everything, as if the world itself is blessing your choice.
As he sets you down into the backseat of a car Manjiro brushes a strand of your hair away from your face then kisses your forehead. “I’m here” he whispers
end notes: at the end, when Sanzu is on his phone, he's texting Koko to post a bunch of evidence of corruption that reader's fiancé’s family has done. Now MIkey could have done that before but he wanted it to be reader's choice so.... yeah. Hope you enjoyed it loll.
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tethered. | jjk
Love notes were slipped into your locker on a daily basis. Variations of messy, boyish handwriting on yellow sticky notes stacked upon themselves by the end of each school day. Every Friday night you were invited out with the promise of "You'll have fun, just give it a chance."
You could have any guy you wanted, no doubt about it. Yet somehow, the only one you do want is the tattooed, gothic one that lives a few doors down from your best friend.
✰ pairing. — emo!jk x reader
✰ genre. — early 2000s au, best friend's older brother, childhood friends to lovers, smut, light angst.
✰ word count. — 7k+
✰ warnings. — swearing, family issues, partying, mentions of drinking/drugs, friendship betrayel (?), smut [virginity loss, teasing, fingering, soft dom!jk, "i've waited so long for this" type shit], reader and jk are both 18+, minors dni.
✰ a/n. really love this pairings and would love to have drabbles with them in the future, so pls lmk if u guys would be interested in that! thanks for all the love on the teaser, hope u enjoy! <3
✰ taglist. @ahgasegotarmy116 @hellbornsworld @kissyfacekoo @littlestarstinyseven @skzthinker
Two monumental events had been etched into your brain for eternity, the first being sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet up with your friends at the community pool. The second is fifteen minutes upon arriving at the pool, seeing your best friend's older brother emerge from the chlorine-scented water as if he were Poseidon and realizing you were utterly infatuated by him.
Jeon Somi isn't blind to this, immediately pulling you away from the crowd to question the longing gaze on your face. "Out of every fucking guy here with us, you're making eyes at my brother? You do know that Jungkook is completely gross, right?" She was so furious, you're surprised no steam was blowing from her ears.
Deny it all you want (and you certainly did within that fifteen-minute interrogation); Jungkook very clearly had a hold on you that lasted many years following that fateful night. He wasn't even your usual type; he wouldn't be caught dead around the guys you're typically drawn to. He had a rebellious side; maybe that's why getting him out of your head was nearly impossible.
Of course, the eternal guilt of falling for your best friend's older, dumbass brother is also difficult to get out of your head.
It can't be helped, really. Anytime you'd visit their home, your eyes would automatically wander through the crack of his doorway as you'd pass by. Whether he was messily cutting his dark hair while blasting Pierce the Veil from his speakers or giving himself a new Stick-and-Poke tattoo as he waited for a CD to finish burning, you long to break away from Somi for a moment to speak to him. Ask him about his day or if his band had any upcoming gigs. You'd even talk to him about paint drying if it meant you'd get to be in the same space as him.
So it's safe to say you were completely heartbroken when he left for college. Somi, however, is over the moon. Or so you think.
"… He's your brother, though. You don't think you're gonna miss him at all?" You ask, watching Somi delicately paint your fingernails a pretty shade of purple.
She shrugs, "I mean… it's definitely gonna be weird not seeing him around the house every day, but he'll still visit sometimes. Maybe."
Deep down, Somi knows Jungkook won't visit much. He'd been craving freedom and independence from their parents for ages, and moving away for college gave him the perfect opportunity to live as he pleased. They weren't fond of the clothes he wore or the friends he had, and absolutely couldn't bear the music his band makes. They criticized every little thing about him, and he'd finally be getting a break from them.
As you're about to ask Somi if she's okay, she stands from her bed, screwing the nail polish closed. "I'll be back. I have to let Bam out." Her voice is shaky, and she doesn't look at you as she exits the room.
You take the opportunity to make your way down the hall and to Jungkook's door, which he has conveniently left wide open as he scrolls on his desktop. His knees are pressed against his chest as he's heavily focused on editing his Facebook page. There's a rock song playing lightly from another tab that you can't quite identify; he uses his free hand to gently tap along to the beat of the music.
His room is covered in cardboard boxes, soon to be packed into his parents' minivan and making their way to the University of San Francisco dorms.
Your knuckles tap on his wooden door, your heart fluttering when he turns around, and you realize he's changed the ring on his lip from black to silver.
He nods at you, "What's up?"
"Nothing. I just know you're leaving in the morning, and I wanted to say bye. And wish you good luck, of course." You're not sure why you're so heartbroken. It's not like the two of you were ever a thing. It's not like this would be your last time seeing him. Why were you so upset?
"Cool, thanks." You assume that was his way of indirectly telling you to get out until he reaches into his desk drawer and says, "Catch," before tossing something towards you.
Careful not to mess up your manicure, you easily catch the item, unfolding what appears to be a purple bandanna. "What's this for?" You ask, inspecting the material in your palms.
"To remember me by, duh. Plus, it matches your nails.”
It'd be silly to tell him you genuinely don't need this because there was no way in hell you could ever forget about him. Instead, you clutch the bandana tightly in your fist and make a silent vow to keep it with you at all times; have a piece of him with you at all times.
You thank him and tell him it's nice, but all you can wonder is why he even wants you to remember him in the first place. Maybe you're overthinking. He probably just didn't care for the useless accessory anymore.
When you turn to leave, Jungkook stops you with a gentle call of your name. He turns his head in your direction, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "Can I tell you something?"
"Anything." You whisper back, praying you don't sound overly desperate for a more extended interaction with him.
A beat of silence passes, and just as he opens his mouth to respond, Somi is stomping up the stairs and belting out your name. You gaze away from Jungkook to glance behind you, listening as his sister shouts about doing each other's makeup.
"Never mind, actually. It's not important." Jungkook interrupts, and you physically feel your heart sink to the floor.
You're about to be annoying and pry a response out of him until your eyes dart to his floor, and you see it. What slipped out from his drawer when he tossed the bandana at you.
A condom wrapper. An empty one, at that.
It's embarrassing how quickly your vision becomes glossy, salty tears threatening to release with each passing second. Of course, he's fucking someone. Of course, that person isn't you. Of fucking course.
You shouldn't be surprised; he's probably more into girls with a similar aesthetic. She's probably covered in tattoos and piercings, just like him. She's probably older than you and may even have her own car, unlike you, who still had to catch rides with your parents or older sister.
It's odd, though. You're not entirely naive; you know Jungkook definitely flirts with you here and there, catching his eye when his gaze lingers on you for a second too long. There's a noticeable tension between the two of you that even your parents have teased about. And this whole time, he's been screwing someone else?
Jungkook hangs out with so many girls it'd be useless to even attempt to uncover who this mystery person is. It's none of your business, anyway.
So you leave.
You tell Somi you'll get grounded if you're home past curfew, and with tear-stained cheeks, you run home.
The following day isn't any easier.
Somi posted a photo on FaceBook of herself and Jungkook posing together, arms wrapped around each other, with the caption "c u l8r alligator XD". The comments are already flooded with responses wishing Jungkook farewell, some from family members or friends of the siblings.
"Don't 4get abt me!!!!!! >:( "from a girl with red hair catches your eye because it's the only one Jungkook responded to. You can't bring yourself to read his full reply, fingers moving to quickly close the tab after seeing the word 'Never.'
It's probably her, you think to yourself, the one he's sleeping with.
Maybe it's for the best that Jungkook's moving away; it'll give you some time to get over him.
And you most certainly did.
The only time he ever crosses your mind is when Somi brings him up (which she rarely does) or when you pass by his empty bedroom. Deep down, you know you'll always care for Jungkook on some level, but time away from him was just what you needed. You were too attached to him for no fathomable reason, rejecting any guy interested in you with the premise of being loyal to a guy who didn't even want you. He'd probably been sneaking girls in through his window, with you a few doors down doing magazine quizzes with his sister; blissfully unaware of what was happening down the hall.
You’re better off without him.
That's what you've been telling yourself daily until now. It's the start of summer vacation, and Jungkook's been summoned home to spend it with his family before Somi (and you) transfer to the University of San Francisco.
Jungkook was hesitant about coming home, as he always is. In constant fear that his parents have some elaborate plan for him to change his major or set him up with someone they deem acceptable, nothing like the girls he hangs around and probably invites back to his dorm.
It took days of convincing until Jungkook finally agreed to come home, under the premise that his parents' intentions were pure and that they simply wanted one last summer together before Somi moved away for college. They also hoped he'd be able to house-sit and watch over Somi for a few days as they took their annual anniversary trip to San Diego. That, however, took some bribing and the promise of gas money on their end.
He's not due to arrive until tomorrow morning, and you've convinced yourself there's no reason for you to see him right away. You'd be fine if the next time you saw him was in a few months as you're moving into your dorm. After years of longing, you've finally moved on from him.
Some of you have debated telling Somi about your past feelings for her brother, but there's no point. It was a one-sided relationship with absolutely zero depth, nothing worth discussing. So when she nudges your side and asks if you're interested in anyone, you reply with a shake of your head.
Somi has no reaction to this; she can't remember the last time you've been into anyone despite having the entire male population at your school practically throwing themselves at you. "Maybe you'll meet someone tonight."
She's referencing the house party you're going to, which she practically had to drag you out of your room to attend. Parties are different from your scene, especially on a day like today when you were hoping to have a girls' night with Somi. She had other plans, however.
"Maybe," you respond, sighing as the house you're attending is finally in your viewpoint. "We're not staying long, right? It looks packed."
Cars are parked throughout the street, one house, in particular, being the center of attention with loud music and drunk people decorating the front yard of a suburban-looking home. Somi looks as ecstatic as ever, looping her arm in yours and picking up her pace. She doesn't respond. It doesn't matter. Her response would've disregarded your concern.
One car catches your eye as you enter the unfamiliar house; it's parked towards the end of the street, and you swear you've been in it before. You're not able to dwell on it for too long, though, because Somi has to practically yank you through the front door.
Your nerves are at an all-time high. The music is entirely too loud, and there isn't a single sober person in sight. You're not sure how Somi even found out about this party, but you really wish she would've left you out of it. You'd go now if it were acceptable, but Somi would've stayed regardless, and you refuse to leave her alone. So, you push your feelings to the side and take her hand as she leads you towards the kitchen.
"Thirsty?" Somi questions, forcing a red solo cup into your hand.
"Not at all," you respond, sighing as Somi pours something into your cup.
"It's just ginger ale," she reassures you, "I don't think either of us should get drunk here." For once, she's being reasonable.
Somi suggests you do a lap around the house in hopes of running into people you may have gone to school with. And to your surprise, a decent amount of your past classmates have decided to attend. You feel more at ease with them around, a bit more comfortable now that you're around recognizable people. Although you initially hesitated to show up, you're glad you did.
"Anybody catch your eye yet? Or are you still breaking hearts?" Your old classmate, Yeoreum, questions.
You shake your head, about to explain that you're not interested in dating right now, until she gestures behind you. "That guy is pretty cute."
You shift on the couch, looking around until you spot who Yeoreum had been gesturing towards. You locate him finally, and she's right; he is cute. He just seems so familiar.
That's when it hits you.
"Oh my God," you whisper, eyes locked on him, and you slowly rise from the couch.
It's Jungkook. And the car you recognized was his. He's here. What is he doing here? He isn't due to be back until tomorrow morning.
You almost don't realize it's him until you spot the mole under his lip. He's grown his hair out and stopped dyeing it, the slew of tattoos that decorated his arm (God, did he start working out, too?) nicely connected, now creating a sleeve, and he's given himself an eyebrow piercing. Your feelings for him come rushing back in full force.
Panicked, you reach for Somi's hand, but she's nowhere to be found. Careful not to be seen by her brother, you bow your head slightly, passing through a crowd of sweaty bodies until you finally spot her kitty heels. She's leaned against a wall, swirling around her cup while flirting with some guy you'd seen around school a few times.
Creating some much-needed distance between the two, you tug Somi towards you. "I think I just saw your brother."
"What? No, he won't even be in the city until tomorrow morning."
Frustrated, you quickly search the crowd until your eyes land on him again. You ignore the fact that he's now speaking to some girl with red hair and tattoos scattered across her arm and point in their direction, "Well, then that guy looks just like him."
Somi squints her eyes in disbelief at the boy in question until the doubt becomes confusion, and the confusion becomes realization. "Oh my God! The fuck is he doing here?" She turns towards you as if you're supposed to have the answer.
"The fuck should I know? You said he wouldn't be here until tomorrow morning!"
"Because that's what he told our parents! How was I supposed to know he was gonna be here? I never would've come if I knew!"
"What are you guys doing here?" A voice you haven't heard in so long interrupts. You don't even want to turn around.
"What are you doing here?" Somi throws back, and the two stare at each other in angry silence for a moment until Jungkook steps to the side. "Upstairs," he says, nodding towards the staircase.
"But—"
"Go."
Somi's clearly aggravated but makes her way towards the stairs. You remain in place with your arms crossed, raising a brow in confusion when Jungkook looks at you. "What?"
"You too."
"I'm not—"
"I'm not asking again," he says simply. You convince yourself that you only take his command because you don't feel like fighting. Definitely not because it's interesting to have him boss you around.
Trudging up the stairs behind Somi, you wait with her in the hallway until Jungkook arrives. "Come on," he says, entering a bathroom and turning the light on. Neither you nor Somi protest; there really isn't any point.
As soon as the door is shut, Somi is yelling at the top of her lungs. "What the fuck are you doing here?! You said you wouldn't be back until tomorrow morning! Mom and Dad had to push their trip back just to give you more time to arrive, and you're already fucking here?! The fuck is the matter with you?!"
"I'm not gonna respond if you're gonna be yelling like this." Jungkook says calmly, leaning against the sink, "Let me get my questions out first, then I'll answer any of yours, deal?"
Somi glances over at you, sitting on the bathtub's edge, and you nod. She returns her attention back to Jungkook, takes a deep breath, then agrees.
"Now, what are you guys doing here?! How'd you even get invited?! And you're drinking?!" The calm demeanor from earlier slips away in a matter of seconds, clearly a hoax just to get Somi to calm down enough to let him speak.
"It's just ginger ale, and we've barely even had any! We were invited by our friends, okay? We have just as much right to be here as you do."
Jungkook scoffs, clearly unamused. "Right, and I'm assuming Mom and Dad know you're here then, huh?"
Somi nervously tucks a hair behind her ear. You wonder why you even have to be in here with them. It's not like Jungkook is your brother, anyway.
"We told our parents that we were going to a birthday party at a friend's house." Somi mumbles, barely able to look Jungkook in the eye.
"And what did they say when they dropped you guys off?"
"They didn't drop us off," you interrupt, "we walked here."
"Well, I wasn't gonna tell him that." Somi glares at you, it takes every bone in your body to not to laugh at her.
You're so over this. You didn't want to attend this dumb party in the first place, and seeing Jungkook flirting with some girl who could've been his female counterpart was the icing on the cake. It doesn't matter if your feelings for him were gone before tonight; every little emotion you'd felt for him over the years had returned (as if they ever left).
"And how exactly did you two geniuses plan on getting home?"
"Same way we got here."
"Can you please just let me handle this? Jesus Christ…" Somi shoots another frustrated glare at you, and you can't help but roll your eyes at her. She turns back towards her brother, "Can you answer my questions now?"
Jungkook's eyes anxiously dart around the cramped bathroom, landing on you a few times before he's slowly nodding his head. "Alright, Mom and Dad basically forced me to spend the whole summer here, and I kept asking myself why they were so persistent about it. They finally told me they needed me to watch over you and the house for their stupid trip. I had plans too, you know? That I had to derail for them. My band could've spent this summer touring, making real money, and now we can't. So, they wanna inconvenience me? I'll inconvenience them right back."
"…Inconvenience them by doing what?" Somi asks the exact question you had.
Jungkook shrugs, "By telling them I'm gonna be arriving a day late, duh."
You and Somi exchange an awkward glance at one other before silently agreeing not to tease him about it. If this was his badass way of retaliating, who were you to rain on his parade?
"Are you gonna tell anyone you saw us here?" Somi questions, a noticible tremble in her voice.
"As long as you guys don't tell anyone you saw me."
It's a fair trade, you accept it. You're even more delighted when Jungkook says he's taking the two of you home. Somi, however, isn't too happy about this, claiming there were so many people she didn't get to speak to, and how'd this be the last time she'd get to see them before moving away for school. You're not sure if Somi is really good at getting what she wants, or if Jungkook was tired of hearing her complain, but he finally gives in and grants her ten more minutes to socialize before meeting him at his car.
"If you're not at my car in ten minutes, I swear to God I'm calling mom." Jungkook scolds, holding the bathroom door open as the three of you finally exit.
A loud, drunk voice suddenly shouts, "Woah, Jungkook! Two girls at the same time!? You fucking beast!"
"They're my sisters, you fucking pervert!" He shouts back.
You can't even dwell on how disgusting the original comment was, only being able to focus on the fact that Jungkook just reffered to you as his sister. As conceited as it may sound, you're not used to rejection or guys putting you in the friend-zone. Whatever little game Jungkook had been playing with you over the years was completely new territory. And right when you think things couldn't possibly get any worse, he calls you his sister.
What the actual fuck.
The next ten minutes go by in a blur; Somi has ditched you for a second time that night to talk to the guy from earlier. When it's finally time to leave, you find her Sat on his lap with her arm hung across his shoulder, laughing at an unfunny pickup line he'd used on her.
"It's time, Somi," you interrupt, helping her stand.
"Wait, wait, wait," she persists, directing her attention back to the boy, "tomorrow at five, right?"
"And not a second later." He sends her a disgusting wink that makes your skin crawl.
Somi is so love-struck you're surprised there isn't an arrow lodged in her back. She can barely form a proper sentence, erupting into a fit of giggles every few seconds as you make your way to Jungkook's car. "Wasn't he just gorgeous?"
You shrug, linking arms with her. "He was alright."
Stunned, Somi gasps at you, "Just alright? He was literally like a Greek God."
"I'm not saying he's unattractive; he's just...not really my type."
"And what is your type, Miss. Never-Has-Been-Interested-In-Anyone?"
Now, there's the question of the hour. You have to word your response very carefully; don't be too obvious about the fact that your ideal type is her older sibling.
"I guess I prefer guys with an edgier look to them, you know? Tattoos, piercings..." Despite your attempt to sound as nonchalant as possible, your heart is beating out of your chest from the mild confession.
Somi snickers, then playfully groans. "It sounds like you're describing my brother."
Now, you really have to test the waters.
"Since you brought him up, would it be so bad if I did like Jungkook? Hypothetically speaking, of course." You're not sure what prompts you to even ask this. It's not like he's even interested in you; he literally just referred to you as his sister.
A beat of silence passes as Somi gathers her thoughts, then she says, "No."
"What?"
You've finally reached Jungkook's car at this point, beating him there. You sit atop the trunk, feet hovering above the ground as the cold, nighttime air swirls around you. Somi shakes her head, "Obviously, it wouldn't be the ideal situation, but I guess I wouldn't mind as long as you talked to me about it first."
"First?" You mimic.
"Like...assuming you'd wanna date him or something. Just so I'm not blindsided, you know?"
This is the last thing you would've expected your impulsive, hotheaded (yet oh-so-loveable) best friend to be reasonable about. Mainly because she lectured you for nearly twenty minutes when she first suspected you had a crush on Jungkook.
You go to respond, but Jungkook, finally arriving at the car, captivates both of your attention. He finishes off his can of Pepsi before crushing the aluminum and tossing it to the ground. "Ready?" He questions.
There's no point in giving him a speech about littering; you're just ready to go home.
He fishes his keys from his pocket and unlocks the car door; Somi opens the backseat and jumps in before you have the chance, sprawling across the aged leather. "Move over," you nudge her foot with your knee; she pulls away from you.
Jungkook calls your name, "Just sit up front. She's not gonna move."
Now, this is new. You've ridden in the backseat of his car with Somi more times than you can count; he'd never allow either of you to sit shotgun with him; typical annoying older brother bullshit.
Don't make a big deal out of this, you say to yourself, climbing into the passenger seat of his car.
Somi and Jungkook bicker the entire ride to their parent's house, partially out of annoyance with each other, but you also get the feeling that neither of them were genuinely ready to leave the party. You're surprised Jungkook even enjoyed parties; he spent most of high school either working, hanging out at skate parks, or practicing with his band in their garage. College must've really changed him, and you're unsure how to feel about it.
Jungkook parks a few houses down from their parent's house and unlocks the doors, "Get out," he says into the backseat.
"Where are you gonna spend the night?" Somi questions, stretching her arms outward.
"I checked into a motel this morning. I'll be back here tomorrow around noon. And, hey," Jungkook turns around, pointing a finger at his sister. "Don't tell them you saw me."
Mockingly, Somi points a finger right back at him. "Telling them I saw you would be exposing myself, cock-sucker. Leave me alone." She angrily begins to climb out of the car, annoyed at how little trust Jungkook had in her.
You turn to go, but Jungkook's cold hand on your bicep stops you, "Where you goin'?"
"I'm gonna walk home from here. It's only a few minutes away," you respond.
Jungkook shakes his head, "I'm dropping you off. You haven't moved since I left, right?"
"No, but it's fi—"
"Then your house is on the way to my motel. We're going in the same direction; might as well ride together."
It truly does make more sense to ride together, and rejecting his offer any further surely would raise suspicions. You don't want either of them to believe you'd feel uncomfortable being alone with Jungkook because that couldn't be farther from the truth. You're perplexed about your feelings now, and you don't want to do anything you'd regret just because of the confusion.
"Okay, then." You glance over your shoulder at Somi, "Will you need any help getting ready for your date tomorrow?"
Suddenly embarrassed, Somi shushes you, gesturing that Jungkook is literally right next to you and would prefer that he didn't hear about her dating life. Jungkook genuinely couldn't care less and is instead patiently waiting for his sister to get out.
She does finally, and Jungkook resumes his path to your house. He turns the radio on, switching between stations until he stops on one that's playing a song he's familiar with. You drive silently for a few minutes; the only sounds being heard are the distant noises from the car's motor and Jungkook humming along to the radio.
He breaks the silence by saying, "I was surprised to see you back there. You never really seemed like the type to enjoy parties."
You chuckle, "I could say the same for you; I don't remember you attending any in high school."
"That's 'cause house parties weren't my thing," he explains, "I went to raves or parties that would happen at the skate park. I don't really like being at someone else's house for too long; it feels too intimate."
Now that you think of it, skate park parties and raves seem much more like his scene.
"Well, I only went because Somi was going, and I didn't feel comfortable with her being there alone. Otherwise, I never would've gone." You admit, resting your head against the window.
"Thanks for looking after her, by the way. You're a good friend."
"I'd do anything for her." Your voice is barely a whisper now, getting quieter with every word you say.
Silence passes, and he says, "Did you know your guys' dorm room is gonna be right under ours?"
"Seriously?" You respond, genuinely curious.
"Mmm-hmm. My roommate, Mingyu, and I are gonna be the worst upstairs neighbors ever." He teases as you roll your eyes. Your mind can't decipher whether this banter is playful & platonic or romantic. Everything Jungkook does confuses you.
"If that's the case, I'll be sure to move to an entirely new building."
"What, so you can have your boyfriend protect you?"
Pause. Boyfriend?
You nearly give yourself whiplash from how hard you spun around to look at Jungkook. "Boyfriend?" You ask.
He shrugs nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. "I just assumed you'd have one by now. Do you?"
There he is again with his mind games. What the fuck was he talking about?
After letting out a very frustrated sigh, you mumble, "No, Jungkook, I do not have a boyfriend."
"Good. Focus on school."
Now he's pissing you off. You wish he'd shut up for the rest of the car ride. "It's nice to see you again, by the way."
Holy shit, you feel like jumping out the window.
"Yeah, great seeing you too. Oh, there's my house. I can walk from here." You make quick work of undoing your seatbelt.
"You sure? I can drop you off at the door."
"No, no. It's best if my parents don't see you so they don't accidentally tell your parents that they saw you." You lie, racking your brain for any excuse imaginable.
He nods, deciding it's best to drop you off a little further from your house. "Then, I'll see you tomorrow?"
"What?" You stop dead in your tracks, one hand clutching the door handle.
"Aren't you coming over tomorrow to help Somi get ready for her…thing? I'll be back home by then."
He's right; you'd be back in his house, and he'll be there this time. It's no big deal. You'd only be there for an hour (at most) to help her prepare, and then you could go the whole summer without seeing him again.
"Yeah, I'll see you then."
The following day, Somi is back to her unreasonable self, expecting you to wait at her house for her to return from her date.
"Please? We're just going to get pizza; we won't even be gone that long." She pleads, adding the finishing touches to her makeup.
You'd already spent over an hour helping her prepare, and now she expects you to do nothing but await her return. You know her heart's in the right place; she just wants to be the first to hear all the exhilarating details about her date. Still, a phone call would suffice.
"What am I supposed to do while I wait for you to come back?" You whine.
"Just hang out here! Watch a movie or something!" She suggests, trying her absolutely hardest to sound enthusiastic. Her phone buzzes in her hand before she has the chance to continue, eyes lighting up as they flicker across the bright screen.
Somi clutches her phone, locks eyes with you, then rushes towards the door. You're faster, though, quickly capturing her wrist before she's barely reached the hallway. "I'm going home."
"No! If you stay here, I'll bring you back pizza, and we can have a girls' night like we were supposed to yesterday! Come on, please?" She begs, pouting her lips.
You go to reply, but the bathroom door swings open, and Jungkook strides out. Just to your luck, he's shirtless; water droplets descend from his hair as he towel-dries it. As he enters his bedroom, he mocks his sister's high-pitched whine, earning a lethal glare and a slew of swears thrown at him.
Perhaps you should stay.
"Fine, but you're lending me your pajamas." You give in, earning an enthusiastic shriek from your best friend.
Somi wraps you in a brief, yet tight, hug before shouting, "Be back soon!" Then she's rushing down the stairs and out the front door. It's not often that Somi makes you wait for her return, but you absolutely despise it whenever it does occur. She's never back by the time she promises and gets upset when you try to call and check up on her.
And speaking of calling, you're sure your phone is dead by now. You insisted Somi bring her's along just in case, so you're left with one option.
Jungkook's door is wide open (as usual) when you go to knock. He's fully clothed now, pairing his black sweatpants with a matching black t-shirt. His hair appears mostly dry now, chaotic as ever, but dry. You don't think he's ever looked this good before.
He's sat on his bed, flipping through the latest copy of Rolling Stone when you arrive. He glances over at you and lets out a dry chuckle.
"What's so funny?" You ask.
"You're dressed like Bella Swan." He responds casually, eyes raking up and down your body.
"Who?"
"From Twilight. You know, that new movie that came out?" He seems genuinely surprised that you don't seem to know anything about this movie, not even the name of (who you suspect to be) the main character.
You lean against the doorframe, "Haven't seen it."
"It's a great movie, seriously. Some friends and I are seeing it in a few days if you and Somi wanna come." He suggests, flipping another page in the magazine.
You let him know you'll ask Somi if she's interested before remembering why you came to his room in the first place and ask if you can borrow his phone charger. Jungkook directs you to where it's plugged up by his desk, and you finally have the chance to stroll further into his room. You can't recall the last time you've been in here, but you know it looks much different than before. Many of the band posters that decorated the room were gone, his random trinkets and piles of clothes were gone, and not a single piece of his CD collection was in sight. It felt so lifeless, so unlike him. No wonder he always dreaded returning home; it probably didn't even feel like home to him.
"So," you say, attempting to break the silence, "you're here for the whole summer, huh?"
"Unfortunately." He mumbles, "Gonna try and go by sooner, convince my parents I have to sort out an issue with my dorm or something."
"It's nice to have you back, though." You admit, watching as Jungkook's gaze locks on yours.
"Yeah? It is?" He questions.
You shrug, "Of course. We practically grew up together; it was weird to not see you all the time."
He sits up now, closing the magazine and tossing it on his nightstand. There's something on his mind that he isn't saying; you can tell from the way his brows knit together and how he's anxiously tugging on his lip piercing. "It was weird to be gone," he mumbles and leaves it at that.
"By the way, I'm sorry about last night." He apologizes.
"For what? Calling me your sister?"
He laughs at this, shaking his head. "I didn't mean to do that on purpose, by the way. That guy was just...so weird, I kinda blurted out the first thing that would've made him feel weird for even thinking that."
Oh. That makes sense. You definitely overreacted.
"I meant," he continues, "I'm sorry if the whole boyfriend assumption thing upset you."
"Oh," you dismissively wave a hand at him, "that was nothing."
Jungkook raises a brow at you, "Are you sure? 'Cause you seemed pretty upset afterward, you were practically running out of my car."
There's no point in lying now, considering you weren't even the slightest bit discrete the previous night.
"If I'm being completely honest, I just felt a little awkward. But that's it, I swear." You assure him, moving to lean against the bedside table.
"Awkward about what?"
God, this was so embarrassing. Is he really going to make you humiliate yourself like this?
"Because I've never actually had a boyfriend before."
Jungkook looks genuinely shocked at your confession, eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he examines yours for any sign of deception. "You don't believe me?"
"I'm not sure. I only assumed you had one just based on how crazy guys were about you in high school. Not to mention you're, like, fucking gorgeous."
What?
"I'm what?" You ask, not entirely sure if you heard him correctly.
He repeats himself again, and you make him do it a few more times until he's too embarrassed to say it again. You somehow manage to get back on the topic of never having a boyfriend before when Jungkook asks you another question. "Have you ever...?"
He doesn't need to finish the sentence. You know what he's asking.
You shake your head.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business." He berates himself, and you assure him it's no big deal and that it shouldn't even be a shocker to him.
After a half hour of talking about whatever comes to mind, you wind up sitting opposite Jungkook on his bed, legs perched up underneath your body as you go back and forth, questioning one another.
"So, when are you gonna admit you had a crush on me?" His voice is barely a whisper.
"I never did." You lie.
"Really? That sucks?"
"Why?"
He shrugs, leaning his back against the headboard. "I just always thought that maybe you and I would've ended up together at some point."
You don't remember who leans in first; it doesn't matter; all that matters is after years of longing, your lips are finally intertwined with his. He must've smoked today; you can taste the nicotine on his breath. But it doesn't matter; you don't make the slightest move to pull away. Neither does he, placing his hands on the small of your back to guide you onto his lap.
Your body is moving on autopilot, limbs moving to do whatever feels right as you silently pray not to ruin the moment. Jungkook can spot your nervousness from a mile away and stop you, "We don't have to do—"
"I want to," you pant, breathless, "I've wanted this for so long."
"Do you trust me?" He asks.
"More than anything."
He kisses you again before adjusting your current position, slowly twisting yourselves until you're lying flat on your back. He moves his lips down towards your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his path as he settles between your legs.
You reach up to grab a handful of his hair, nearly jumping out of your skin as his delicate fingertips creep up your inner thigh, inching closer and closer until his ghosting over your clothed pussy. "This okay?" He mumbles.
You nod, unable to form a coherent sentence. "Cute," he replies, "you're already so wet." His fingertips stroke your clit through your damp underwear; you don't think to wonder how he managed to get to it so quickly, all thoughts leaving your brain as he makes small circles using his middle and index finger.
"Jungkook…" You moan, pleading for him to do more.
"I know." He assures you, using a single finger to pull your panties to the side, making just enough room for him to slide a finger into your aching cunt. "Am I really your first time?"
You nod again out of fear that a moan would slip from your lips if you even tried to speak. His eyes are locked on yours, studying your expression as he coaxes a finger inside you. You're embarrassed at how quickly your wetness coated his finger, but Jungkook doesn't care. He likes it, makes him feel fucking amazing knowing the effect he had on you.
"Take your shirt off." He says, and you do as told, pulling your top up and off your body and tossing it to the floor; making quick work of undoing your bra before he even has the chance to ask.
His lips are back on your neck instantly, trailing down to your collarbone until he reaches the curve on your breast. He halts his actions momentarily before your pitched nipple is caught between his teeth and your back arching off the bed from how overstimulating everything feels.
You curse under your breath, and Jungkook makes another comment about how cute you are, though you feel far from it. He apologizes by lapping his tongue around your nipple, easing the pain slowly as he inserts a second finger into your cunt.
You can feel his bulge against your thigh, though he doesn't even care about getting himself off. He moves over to your nipple, licking and sucking until it's completely hardened, leaving himself breathless. The two fingers that had been working your cunt had picked up the pace now, and there was an unfamiliar feeling in your gut that you couldn't identify.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" You groan, legs trembling.
Jungkook is all too familiar with these actions and asks, "You're already close? I've barely done anything to you." He teases, chuckling to himself.
You know he's being lighthearted, but you can't help but feel embarrassed at the tears forming in your eyes from how good everything feels.
Suddenly, he's pulling his fingers out of you, and now you feel like crying for a different reason. You go to protest but stop to watch as he takes his shirt off. If you weren't sure then, it's obvious now he'd started attending the gym.
He makes quick work of tugging his sweatpants down his legs, tossing them into the abyss before reaching into his bedside table and retrieving a condom. "You're okay?"
You nod.
"Use your words."
“I’m okay, Jungkook.”
"You're still okay with this?"
"Yes."
"You sure?"
Jesus fucking Christ, the saint this man is.
"I'm positive." You assure him.
You move to pull down your skirt and underwear, but Jungkook catches your wrist. "Leave them on," he says. There are so many things going on that you choose not to question.
He pulls off his boxers in the meantime, hardened cock slapping against his abdomen with precum leaking from the tip. Though you had nothing to compare it to, Jungkook was obviously slightly larger than average. You shouldn't be surprised; it's always the guys that you'd least expect.
He tears the condom wrapper with his teeth, retrieving the rubber inside before tossing the remains to his floor. Despite being fully erect, he fists his cock a few times before sliding the condom on.
He crawls over you, left arm at the side of his head, while he uses his dick to nudge your panties to the side. "This still okay?"
"I already told you—fuck!" He cuts you off, the tip of his cock slowly making its way inside you. You feel so stretched out from this alone you don't know how you'd manage to fit all of him into you.
Jungkook must be feeling the same, swearing under his breath and commenting about how tight you feel around him. Second by second, he coaxes himself into your pussy until you feel like you could split right open. "Are you all the way in?"
"No, can't take anymore?" He asks, leaning his head down against your ear.
You're embarrassed to admit he's too big to handle on your first time, but it's the truth. You don't want to overextend yourself just to please him and end up hurting yourself.
"You can move, just…not too much. Please."
Jungkook nods, "Whatever you want, angel."
He pulls his hips back and rocks himself back in, being sure to ask if you're okay with his pace. Once you confirm you feel fine and want him to keep going, he continues his movements; his eager hips snapping against yours and his cock hitting your G-spot with each deep stroke. You feel like you're on cloud nine, hands tangled in his hair as he swallows your moans.
That unfamiliar feeling from earlier returns; you feel it through your entire body this time. A moan of his name escaping your lips lets him know you're close. How he can always sense these things is beyond you; it's not worth overthinking.
"Close?" He asks, and you nod frantically.
Jungkook picks up his speed slightly, careful not to overwhelm you, but just enough to reach your climax, until finally, the bundle of nerves in your abdomen snaps, and your back is arching off the mattress as you come around his cock.
He's only a few seconds behind with his orgasm, erupting in a loud grunt when he finally reaches it. The two of you lay in silence for a moment before Jungkook finally pulls out of you and slides the condom off, tying it in a knot and tossing it into his trash bin.
"Are you okay?" He asks for what feels like the millionth time.
"I'm fine." You respond, and it isn't a lie. Physically, you feel terrific; mentally, it was an entirely different story. "Are you?"
"I'm good, I'm good."
As much as you would love to lay naked with Jungkook in his bed for the rest of the night, you know Somi will be home anytime soon. "I think I'm gonna go wash up."
He nods, crawling under his covers once you stand from his bed, tugging your skirt to its proper length as you search for your remaining clothing. "Oh, it's um…your shirt, it's over there." Jungkook awkwardly gestures towards a pile of clothing by the end of his bed.
Almost as quickly as you shred yourself of them, you snatch your clothing and bundle them up against your chest.
"Listen, I know right now isn't really ideal, but I meant what I said about liking you, and really think we should talk." He says nervously, barely even able to look at you.
You almost want to laugh at how cute he is; instead, you agree to talk to him about it soon. You're about to head out into the hallway when Jungkook reminds you about your charging phone over by his desk.
You retrieve it and scan the area again, ensuring you haven't left anything else behind. When everything seems clear, you stand upright, but your eyes fall toward the trash bin near his window with the discarded condom. You're embarrassed to even look at it until you realize something seems off. It looks…empty.
Now, you're no sex expert, but imagine that if Jungkook had finished, there'd be something to show for it in the condom. Right?
Did he fake his orgasm? Was this another one of his fucked up mind games you'd been subjected to?
You don't know what to think as you step into the bathroom; your emotions are all over the place, and all you really want to do is go home. But you promised Somi you'd be here when she returns, so you stay.
The next time a Jeon sibling asks if you're okay is twenty minutes later when Somi finally arrives and asks why your eyes are so watery.
"I'm fine." You respond, and you're lying for the first time that night.
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