bluelavendre

[bluelavendre]

Apocalypse

JJK x Reader ft. Namjoon &???

THIS IS PURE FICTION!!

Police officer jjk x Doctor Reader ft.???

1/??

The low hum of an approaching engine disrupted the quiet morning air. A black patrol car rolled to a smooth stop in front of a corner café tucked into a sleepy town street—quaint, quiet, and still unaware of the chaos that would one day come.

The driver’s side door creaked open, and out stepped a man who turned more than a few heads on a daily basis. Officer Jeon Jungkook. Broad shoulders stretched the seams of his uniform shirt, the tattoos winding down his arms just barely hidden beneath the fabric. His dark hair was brushed back, still damp from a morning shower, and a pair of sunglasses dangled carelessly between his fingers. He slid them on as he walked toward the café, the heavy soles of his boots thudding rhythmically on the pavement.

The bell above the café door gave a cheerful chime as he stepped inside, greeted by the rich aroma of coffee beans and warm pastries. It smelled like comfort, like routine—like everything that made life feel normal.

“Good morning, Officer Jeon! The usual?” called Minho, the young barista behind the counter, already grinning as he pulled two cups from the stack.

“Make it two today, Minho,” Jungkook said with a small smile, voice low and smooth.

Minho raised a brow knowingly. “Feeding the beast in the passenger seat?”

“Unfortunately,” Jungkook chuckled, pulling a few bills from his wallet.

Within minutes, two steaming cups of coffee and a paper bag filled with breakfast burritos were packed up and ready. Jungkook gave Minho a small nod of thanks before stepping back out into the crisp morning air.

He slid into the driver’s seat and handed over the goods. His partner, Officer Kim Namjoon, immediately perked up.

“Finally,” Namjoon said, lifting the lid off his coffee cup and taking a long sip. “Jeon Jungkook is buying breakfast. This is a historic day.”

“Don’t make it weird,” Jungkook muttered, biting into his burrito.

Their patrol car sat idling quietly at the curb as they ate, eyes casually scanning the street as morning life began to bloom—pedestrians with briefcases, joggers, a dog walker or two.

Then the café door opened again, and something—or rather, someone—shifted in Jungkook’s peripheral vision.

A woman stepped out, her coat fluttering slightly in the breeze. She was on the phone, her voice soft but purposeful. A doctor, judging by the embroidered name tag barely visible on her coat pocket. Hair pulled into a clean ponytail, a stethoscope hanging from her neck. Her every move was graceful, her presence quiet yet commanding.

Jungkook’s gaze lingered longer than it should have.

Namjoon, ever the observer, turned his head and caught the expression on his partner’s face. A teasing grin curled on his lips.

“Officer Jeon,” he said in a mockingly serious tone. “You forgot your sunglasses.”

Jungkook blinked. “Aish, Kim. What are you on about now?”

“I can literally see the puppy eyes,” Namjoon smirked, wiggling his brows like a high schooler watching his friend fall in love.

“She’s my neighbor, hyung,” Jungkook said defensively, but his voice lacked bite.

“Ohh,” Namjoon said with a slow nod. “I get it now. Jeon Jungkook—town hero, proud defender of the people, protector of the innocent—just casually keeping an eye out for the neighborhood doctor. How noble.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and started the engine, trying to hide the way his ears were burning.

“She’s married,” he added after a moment of silence.

Namjoon nearly choked on his burrito. “She’s what?!”

Jungkook didn’t respond. He just kept driving.

The tires crunched over gravel as their patrol car pulled into the lot behind the station. The morning sun glinted off the rows of parked cruisers, the building standing tall in its quiet authority. Jungkook killed the engine, grabbed the paper bag, and stepped out with a sigh, his boots hitting the ground with that familiar solid thud.

Namjoon scrambled out after him, still gripping his half-finished coffee.

“Wait—wait, are you for real?” he called, jogging to catch up. “She’s married? Married? To who? When?!”

Jungkook didn’t break stride as he pushed through the glass doors of the station.

“To who?” Namjoon repeated behind him. “She? That doctor? Your neighbor? What??”

Inside, the familiar scent of fresh paperwork and old floor polish filled the air. Officers passed them, nodding greetings, typing reports, making calls. Jungkook just walked faster, trying to lose his partner in the maze of desks and hallways.

“Move on, hyung,” Jungkook muttered, finally stopping by his locker. He opened it with a clang, swapping out his jacket, his expression unreadable.

Namjoon leaned on the wall beside him, still staring like he’d just been told Santa Claus was real and cheating on Mrs. Claus.

“I mean… I just didn’t expect that. She doesn’t wear a ring,” he said more quietly this time, voice finally softening.

“She used to,” Jungkook replied, not looking up.

Namjoon frowned. “Divorced?”

“No,” Jungkook said. “Military. He’s deployed. Hasn’t been home in years. But she still waits for him.”

That shut Namjoon up for a moment.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened slightly as he pulled out his body cam, checking the battery like it suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world. “So yeah… move on, hyung.”

Namjoon didn’t respond immediately. He just watched his partner in silence, something unspoken passing between them. He saw it now—the way Jungkook watched her, not just with attraction, but with quiet longing. A kind of ache no training could fix.

And maybe... the kind of ache that would only get worse.

Night had fallen, and the once-bustling streets were now quiet, bathed in the glow of streetlights and the occasional flicker of a passing car’s headlights. Jeon Jungkook sat behind the wheel of his patrol car, parked just outside his modest home. The engine clicked softly as it cooled, the radio silent for the first time all day.

He looked over.

Her car was already there—parked in its usual spot just next to his. And there she was.

Out in her front yard, crouched down with a small dish in her hands, she fed the same group of stray cats that always seemed to show up around dusk. She was barefoot, dressed in her familiar nighttime attire: a loose white top and a pair of worn-out Stitch pajama pants that looked two sizes too big—probably her husband's. There was a quiet comfort in how soft and normal it all felt.

Jungkook took a slow breath, adjusting his cap before stepping out of the car.

As if sensing him, she looked up with a small smile. “Good evening, Officer Jeon.”

Her voice was light, teasing, and yet… there was something warm in the way she said his name. Like he belonged in this tiny sliver of her world.

Jungkook felt something flutter in his chest. Damn that voice.

He tipped his cap, the one with the embroidered police emblem on the front. “Good evening, Doctor.”

She raised a brow, her smile growing. “The formalities again, Officer?”

He chuckled as he walked toward her yard. “You called me Officer first… and that’s the second time you’ve called me Doctor Y/L/N.”

“Fine, fine,” she said, waving him off playfully. “Good evening, Jungkook-shii.”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Feeding time, huh?”

“Yep,” she said simply, scratching one of the cats behind its ears. “They’re starting to expect me now. I’m probably in trouble if I ever forget.”

Jungkook leaned against the low fence, watching the cats briefly before glancing back at her. “How was your day?”

She sighed, the weariness finally catching up to her as she sat back on her heels. “Rough. We had… a boy come into the ER today. Maybe ten years old. Violent. Ferocious. It took four of us to hold him down. We thought it was rabies, but…” Her voice trailed off. “We’re still running tests.”

The easy atmosphere shifted slightly. Jungkook’s posture straightened, the officer in him taking over. “That doesn’t sound like just rabies,” he said, voice low. “You should be careful, Doc. Some things hide behind friendly faces.”

He nodded toward the cat closest to her feet. It looked up innocently with round eyes and a twitching tail.

She glanced at the cat, then back at him with a small, amused smile. “Note taken, sir.”

They stood there for a beat, the wind brushing lightly through the trees, the rustling leaves whispering like secrets in the dark.

“I should probably go inside,” she said softly, standing and brushing grass off her pants. “Goodnight again, Jungkook-shii.”

Jungkook gave her a small nod, watching as she stepped back into her yard, the porch light casting a soft halo around her as she opened her door. She turned back once more, smiled, and disappeared inside.

Only then did Jungkook finally head toward his own front door, unlocking it slowly, his eyes flicking one last time to her porch.

Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once.

Then again.

Louder.

And then it suddenly stopped.

The soft blue of early morning clung to the neighborhood like a blanket, cool and quiet. Birds were just beginning their morning songs, and the sky had only started its slow stretch toward dawn.

Jeon Jungkook was already outside.

His front porch creaked slightly under the rhythm of his push-ups—steady, controlled, but if you watched closely, you’d see his tempo waver every now and then. Not from fatigue.

From glancing toward the house next door.

The cool air kissed his skin, dew clinging to the wooden planks beneath him. His black tank top clung to his sculpted frame, soaked slightly with early sweat. The ink along his arms was on full display in the soft dawn light—script tattoos weaving around his right forearm, elegant cursive mingling with delicate symbols, a tiger lily peeking near the inside of his elbow. A bold eye on his forearm seemed to watch the world with him.

The one that always drew the most attention was the sleeve on his right hand—"Truth" and "Rather be dead than cool" etched between sharp black lines and sacred geometry, crawling up his wrist and knuckles like shadows from a dream. There was a faint glint of the “ARMY” tattoo just below his thumb—a tribute to loyalty and memory—and near the inside of his bicep, a barely noticeable date in Roman numerals. Something personal. Something he never talked about.

He told himself this was just part of his routine. Push-ups. Mind clear. Stay strong. Protect people.

But this morning, like every morning lately, it was more than that.

He was waiting.

And right on time, the porch light flicked on next door.

She stepped outside, barefoot and blinking sleep from her eyes. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, strands falling loose as she carried a steaming mug to the porch railing. Wrapped in an oversized cardigan and those familiar Stitch pajama pants—clearly from another life—she looked as soft and out of place in this gritty world as spring snow.

Jungkook paused, holding a push-up mid-motion. His gaze softened.

She looked around at the sound of paws and claws on wood—stray cats gathering near her like a daily ritual. She poured kibble into their little bowl and murmured something gentle he couldn’t hear from this distance.

Then, she looked up.

Their eyes met.

And she smiled.

“Do you ever sleep, Jungkook-shii?” she called across the stillness, her voice cracking a little from sleep.

He stood, grabbing the towel from the porch railing and casually wiping his arms—inking catching the light. “Morning cardio. Gotta stay in shape in case someone needs rescuing.”

She lifted her cup in mock salute. “Ah, the neighborhood hero returns.”

“Always on duty, Doctor,” he replied, lips tugging into a crooked smile.

But he noticed it—the brief flicker behind her eyes. The slight downturn of her mouth before she masked it with a sip of coffee.

“Everything alright?” he asked, lowering his voice.

She hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Just… weird dreams. And the hospital called earlier. The boy from yesterday—he’s missing.”

Jungkook’s easy demeanor vanished.

“Missing?” he repeated, brows knitting.

“They had him restrained. Last night’s security footage got corrupted somehow, and when the nurses did rounds this morning, he was just… gone.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. His hand unconsciously drifted to the tattoo over his chest, hidden under fabric—a symbol of resilience he got the day after his first failed case. A quiet reminder to never let things slip through the cracks.

“Could be something,” he said carefully. “I’ll check in with dispatch. See if anything’s been flagged overnight.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. “It’s probably nothing. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”

He didn’t respond. Because he wasn’t sure it was nothing.

A strange silence lingered between them, until she spoke again.

“Well… I should get ready for work. See you later, Jungkook-shii,” she said, offering a tired smile.

He nodded, eyes lingering on her a moment longer.

“Be safe, Doctor.”

She turned, disappearing inside.

And Jungkook stood there for a while longer, the cool air biting at his inked skin, unease creeping under his ribs.

Somewhere, deep in the city, another siren wailed.

Jungkook pulled into the precinct parking lot just as the city stirred to life. The rising sun painted the sky in smudges of coral and gray, but the air felt heavier than usual—like the day knew something no one else did yet.

He stepped out of the cruiser, fingers instinctively adjusting the bulletproof vest under his jacket. The precinct doors buzzed open, and he was immediately met with Namjoon pacing near the monitor wall, brows drawn tight.

“Jungkook,” he said, his tone clipped. “We’ve got another one. This one’s bad.”

Namjoon tapped the screen, and a grainy video clip began to play. It looked like security cam footage from a small gas station somewhere in the west outskirts of Seoul. A young man—barefoot, bloodied, twitching—stumbled into frame. The clerk behind the counter started shouting. But the boy didn’t flinch. His eyes were wide, unblinking. Feral.

Then he lunged.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched as he watched the chaos erupt on-screen. Screams. Shaking camera. The boy biting—tearing—into someone’s arm before the feed cut.

Namjoon exhaled shakily. “Same symptoms. Unresponsive to speech. Aggressive. Animalistic.”

Before Jungkook could respond, the precinct door banged open.

“ATTENTION!”

Every officer in the room snapped up from their stations. The chief walked in, tall and sharp in his pressed uniform, a file in one hand and urgency in his steps.

“At ease,” the chief barked, dropping the folder onto the front desk. “Listen up. Things are escalating.”

He looked at each officer, locking eyes.

“The hospital has started reporting a growing number of bite-related injuries. Mostly erratic behavior. Some… fatal. The government’s flagged this as a potential outbreak scenario. Low-level for now, but spreading.”

Murmurs broke out across the room. Jungkook didn’t move. His mind immediately flashed to her. The way she looked this morning. The concern in her voice when she said “we barely restrained him.”

The chief continued. “As of this morning, all precincts have been ordered to begin collaboration with local hospitals. Ours has been assigned to Seoul Medical East—where the first recorded case was brought in.”

Jungkook’s heart dropped.

That was her hospital.

“You’ll work closely with doctors for intel, security, and containment if necessary,” the chief said. “This is no longer just a public disturbance issue—it’s a medical emergency. Dismissed.”

Chairs scraped back as the officers got to work, some grouping around computer terminals, others checking radios and prepping riot gear. Namjoon nudged Jungkook, concern etched across his face.

“Your doctor friend,” he said quietly, “that’s her hospital, right?”

Jungkook nodded, grabbing his gear.

“Do you think she’s okay?”

He didn’t answer.

Because he didn’t know.

The convoy of police cruisers roared down the main avenue, their sirens piercing the thick tension in the air. Flashing red and blue lights danced across the hospital's white facade, casting eerie glows on panicked faces and shattered windows.

Jungkook gripped the steering wheel tightly, jaw locked, heart pounding like a war drum.

As soon as they arrived, the scene exploded before them—nurses screaming, patients writhing on stretchers, and doctors desperately trying to sedate bodies that thrashed like wild animals.

“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon whispered beside him, stepping out of the car. “It’s worse than the footage.”

The emergency entrance was a warzone. One nurse flew backward, her shoulder slammed by a middle-aged man foaming at the mouth. Another patient bit down hard on a stretcher’s metal rail, teeth cracking.

“READY, MEN!” the chief barked, voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. His hand shot into the air, commanding immediate formation.

“All teams—gear up! Secure perimeter, and assist medical staff where necessary. We are not here to kill—we are here to contain!” the chief ordered.

He turned sharply toward Jungkook, eyes hard. “Officer Jeon—I’m putting you in charge of interior containment with your squad.”

“Yes, sir!” Jungkook responded, saluting sharply.

He spun to his men, voice loud and unwavering despite the panic around them.

“Alpha team—assist the nurses in the ER, use riot shields if needed! Beta team, lock down the west hallway and keep ferals from crossing over to ICU! No guns unless absolutely necessary—we do not shoot civilians!”

“Yes, sir!” the officers responded, immediately breaking into teams.

Jungkook's boots thundered against the tile as he rushed inside, weaving through overturned chairs and knocked-over IV stands. The hospital interior looked like a scene from a horror movie—blood smeared on walls, flickering lights, oxygen tanks rolling loose across the floor.

He scanned faces—nurses, doctors, infected—desperately searching for one in particular.

Where was she?

Then—

Through a half-open door in the east wing, he heard a familiar voice.

“No—please stay still—you're hurting yourself! Mr. Han, stop—STOP!”

Jungkook burst into the room.

There she was—struggling to restrain an elderly patient whose face had turned a sickly gray, pupils dilated, veins dark and raised under translucent skin. He snarled and snapped at her like a rabid dog, knocking over a tray of medical tools.

Without thinking, Jungkook lunged forward.

He grabbed the old man from behind, using his strength to pin him against the wall.

“Doc, MOVE!” he shouted.

She stumbled back, panting, eyes wide with panic and relief.

“Jungkook-shii—he bit two nurses,” she gasped. “I couldn’t sedate him—he broke the restraints.”

Jungkook wrestled the man to the ground, twisting his wrists into an emergency zip tie restraint. “Namjoon!” he shouted into his radio, “Get two officers to Room 203! I need backup and a gurney!”

Static crackled before Namjoon responded. “On it!”

She was still breathing hard, her hands trembling. Jungkook looked up at her, eyes full of worry.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No. I—he almost got me, but I’m okay.”

Jungkook stood, his hand briefly brushing her arm. “You shouldn’t be here alone. I’ll keep you close.”

Outside the room, more screams echoed.

Jungkook’s expression darkened.

Something terrible was unfolding here.

BANG!

The thunderous sound of a gunshot echoed through the hospital hallway, sharp and deafening. Jungkook instinctively pulled her down behind a tipped-over gurney, shielding her body with his own as the high-pitched ringing filled his ears.

“NO SHOOTING!” Jungkook roared into his radio. “We’re surrounded by civilians—HOLD YOUR FIRE!”

But his voice barely cut through the chaos.

Inside the room, Mr. Han’s head snapped violently toward the nurse beside him—eyes wide, veins throbbing beneath his skin—and without warning, he lunged. His teeth sank into her neck before anyone could stop it.

“NO!” the nurse screamed—just once—before her voice turned into gurgled, wet gasps. Blood sprayed across the floor, slick and red.

Jungkook shoved her behind him. “Stay down!” he barked.

The nurse staggered backward, clawing at the wall—but her eyes were already changing. Dilated. Glazed. Her body twitched unnaturally, jerking in spasms that looked less like pain and more like possession.

She locked eyes with Jungkook.

And then—she lunged, growling.

“Kook, MOVE!”

The door slammed open and Namjoon charged in with two officers. Without hesitation, he raised his weapon and fired.

BANG. BANG.

The nurse’s body hit the ground hard, blood pooling beneath her. Mr. Han was next, restrained but still snarling like a beast, veins pulsing like snakes under his skin.

“We had no choice, Kook,” Namjoon said breathlessly, lowering his weapon. “They’re not human anymore. They’re too strong.”

Jungkook stood frozen for a moment, heart hammering in his chest. His mind struggled to catch up—one moment it was a hospital, the next, a battlefield.

She slowly stood beside him, blood splattered on her cheek, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

“This isn’t rabies…” she whispered, voice trembling. “It’s something worse.”

Jungkook turned to Namjoon. “Get the survivors out. Lock every damn hallway. We need quarantine zones—now.”

“On it,” Namjoon said, signaling his officers.

Jungkook turned back to her, voice soft but urgent.

“You’re coming with me.”

She hesitated. “I—I can’t leave my patients—”

“There are no more patients,” Jungkook said, eyes haunted. “There are only survivors.”

Their eyes met. And in that moment, they both knew:

Something had begun.

“We only have a few survivors, sir!” an officer reported, sweat dripping down his forehead, eyes wide with panic.

Jungkook, Y/N, and Namjoon sprinted toward the remaining cluster of police officers huddled near the ER exit. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance—closer now—and the once-bustling hospital was now a battlefield of overturned stretchers, broken glass, and moaning bodies.

“We need to move,” the Chief barked. His face was pale, his uniform stained with blood. His hand gripped his side tightly, but he kept his composure. “Fall back to the station—we need an emergency meeting. The military has been contacted. Reinforcements will arrive within the hour.”

Y/N stepped forward, catching the subtle shake in the Chief’s hand, the way he was trying not to limp. Her eyes narrowed—but she said nothing, keeping the observation to herself for now.

“Sir,” she said urgently, “some infected patients ran out into the streets. If we don’t act now, this won’t stay contained. We’ll need to evacuate the city. The virus—whatever this is—it spreads too fast.”

The Chief glanced at her, sweat beading on his brow. He hesitated just for a moment—barely long enough to notice.

“We’ll discuss it at the station,” he said. “Doctor, we’ll need you there. The government wants input from the frontline—we can’t stand out here any longer. It’s not safe.”

“Come on, Y/N,” Jungkook said, gently placing a hand on her back and guiding her toward his cruiser. The tension in his jaw was tighter than ever.

She slid into the front passenger seat, her fingers trembling slightly as she fumbled with the seatbelt. Jungkook slid into the driver’s side, immediately starting the engine. Namjoon took the back seat, loading his rifle beside him with grim silence.

As they pulled out, the scene around them grew worse with every block. Seoul had begun to fall.

Fires had broken out in the distance. Cars were abandoned in the middle of intersections. People ran down sidewalks screaming, dragging children behind them. Some banged on shop doors, begging to be let in. Others… weren’t human anymore.

A man slammed into their windshield briefly, growling—his face covered in blood—before he was thrown off as Jungkook swerved.

“This is hell already,” Namjoon muttered from the back seat, gripping his weapon tightly. “How the fuck did it spread this fast?”

Y/N stared out the window, watching as a woman knelt in the street, clutching the limp body of a child. “It’s air-borne, or blood-borne—or both,” she whispered. “The incubation time is almost nonexistent.”

Jungkook’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He didn’t speak. His eyes were fixed on the road, jaw locked, scanning every corner for threats. He was no longer just an officer. He was a protector now. Not just of the city—but of her.

“I’m getting you both to safety,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

The sirens faded as they neared the station.

But even there—chaos was waiting.

The police station, once a place of routine, reports, and quiet paperwork, had transformed into a nerve center buzzing with dread. Officers ran in and out, phones rang constantly, and the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with the weight of a city crumbling outside.

Inside the briefing room, the air was tense. Everyone was on edge—some still in their bloodied uniforms, others clearly fresh from patrols. Jungkook, Y/N, and Namjoon entered, the sound of their boots echoing off the tile floor. Y/N immediately felt the shift in atmosphere—this wasn’t just a city crisis anymore. This was a national emergency.

The Chief stood at the front, pale, with dark circles under his eyes. He gave her a quick glance—one that lingered just a little too long—but said nothing. Behind him, a projection screen blinked to life.

Security footage rolled.

One clip after another.

Doctors being dragged down hallways.

Nurses screaming as feral patients lunged at them.

A young boy in restraints suddenly snapping two guards' arms with unnatural strength.

A woman coughing up blood in an alleyway before attacking her own brother.

The room fell into silence except for the faint static of the audio feed. No one moved. No one blinked.

Y/N stepped forward, folding her arms tightly as she studied the footage. Her brows furrowed as she focused on the timelines, the proximity of interactions, and the symptoms.

“…It’s not airborne,” she said quietly but firmly. All eyes turned to her.

She turned toward the group. “If it were, everyone in that hospital—every nurse, every janitor, every person in that building—would have turned already. But they didn’t. The ones who were bitten or exposed to infected blood were the ones who transformed.”

She pointed at one clip. “See that nurse? She worked with multiple infected, stayed in the same room, didn’t wear a mask—still normal. But once Mr. Han bit her... transformation within minutes.”

Jungkook watched her with quiet intensity, admiring her ability to stay composed despite everything they'd seen. Her voice was steady—clinical—but he could see the tightness in her jaw. She was holding it together… barely.

Namjoon leaned back in his chair. “So it’s bites and blood. We’ve got to train every unit to keep distance. No physical holds. If they’re infected, don’t touch ‘em.”

The Chief nodded slowly, beads of sweat forming again on his temple. “Then we initiate biohazard protocol. Everyone on patrol wears protective gear from now on. Gloves. Masks. No bare skin exposure.”

Y/N added, “You’ll also need to set up testing checkpoints. If someone gets bitten—even grazed—they need to be isolated immediately. No exceptions.”

One young officer stood up, panicked. “But… they look normal at first, don’t they? How do we know who’s safe? How do we trust each other?”

Y/N’s eyes darkened. “That’s the hardest part. You don’t.”

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Outside, a dull rumble echoed in the distance. An explosion? A collapsing building? No one knew anymore. But one thing was clear—this wasn’t going away.

Jungkook's hand clenched into a fist at his side. He glanced over at Y/N, who was already looking at him.

They were in the middle of a war zone now.

And it was only just beginning.

“Sir, the military has arrived!” a young officer shouted, bursting into the briefing room.

Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone stood at once. The gravity of the moment hung thick in the air—if the military was here, the situation was worse than they thought.

Jungkook instinctively placed a gentle hand on Y/N’s back, guiding her along with the others as they moved toward the station’s entrance. Outside, the noise of engines and boots filled the streets. Military vehicles lined the roads—jeeps, armored trucks, and medical transports—forming a protective barrier around the police station.

Uniformed soldiers jumped down from the vehicles, barking orders and moving in tactical formations. Their presence was strong, authoritative, efficient… and grim.

Y/N stood between Jungkook and the Chief. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced at the older man. He looked… off.

His posture was stiff, and he wasn’t responding to the soldiers' arrival the way the others were. His breath was uneven, his skin pale, almost bluish. A thin line of sweat trickled down his temple, but when Y/N gently reached for his wrist—what she felt made her blood run cold.

His skin was ice.

“Chief…?” she asked quietly, stepping closer. “Your pulse—it's faint—”

Suddenly, his entire body jolted. His arm shot out, knocking her backward.

“Y/N!” Jungkook yelled, immediately reaching out to catch her, but the Chief lunged at her again—this time, fully transformed. His eyes had gone bloodshot, mouth snarling, strength unnatural for a man his age.

Jungkook tackled the Chief to the side, grunting as he struggled to restrain the infected man. The Chief’s hands clawed at his vest like a mad animal, teeth gnashing only inches from Jungkook’s throat.

“Get back! Don’t let him bite!” Jungkook shouted to the officers, who all hesitated, unsure what to do.

And then—bang!

A single shot rang through the chaos.

The Chief’s body slumped over Jungkook’s, lifeless.

Y/N gasped, eyes wide as the figure holding the still-smoking rifle came into view.

Kim Taehyung.

Wearing full military gear, rifle still raised, breath steady despite the scene before him. His eyes scanned the area before landing on her. The sharpness in his expression softened instantly.

“Y/N!” he called out.

She stumbled to her feet, blood on her sleeves, breath shaky—but her eyes locked onto his, and in seconds he was sprinting toward her. He dropped his rifle, arms outstretched as he enveloped her in a tight embrace, lifting her off the ground slightly as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“God, you’re safe,” he whispered into her hair. “You’re safe…”

Jungkook stood a few feet away, still catching his breath, watching the reunion unfold before him.

His eyes lingered on the way Taehyung held her, the way she clung back.

There was a pang in his chest—deep, quiet, and buried beneath years of discipline.

Namjoon appeared beside him, his voice low. “You okay, Kook?”

Jungkook gave a short nod, glancing down at the blood on his hands. “Yeah… I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t.

Not really.

Because even in the middle of a crumbling world, where the dead walked and the cities burned… she still belonged to someone else.

As the chaos began to settle, the Chief’s body was quickly covered, soldiers regrouped, and the area was secured. Orders echoed around them, but for a moment, Jungkook just stood still, chest rising and falling heavily, the echo of the gunshot still ringing in his ears.

Y/N gently pulled away from Taehyung, giving him a soft nod before turning toward Jungkook.

“Jungkook,” she said, moving quickly to his side. Her voice was sharp now—not formal, not clinical, but full of urgency. “Are you hurt? Did he… did he bite you?”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook replied, but she didn’t take his word for it.

She reached for his arm, her fingers brushing over the fabric of his uniform, eyes scanning him thoroughly.

“Take this off,” she ordered, tugging at his outer jacket. Jungkook blinked at her but obeyed, slipping the jacket off while Namjoon subtly stepped away to give them privacy.

Y/N’s eyes darted across his skin—his neck, his arms, the exposed skin near the collar of his shirt. Her fingers grazed along his forearm, checking for scratches or bites.

“Y/N,” he said softly, “I told you, I’m okay.”

“I need to be sure,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. Her brows were drawn tightly together, worry pulling at the corners of her mouth.

She pushed up his sleeve, revealing a stretch of tattooed skin—black ink curling along his veins, stories and symbols written in lines and shapes. For a second, her fingers paused, tracing one of them unconsciously.

Jungkook watched her. Felt the heat of her touch. The brush of her fingertips against his skin—gentle, like she was trying not to break him.

“You’re really not hurt?” she asked again, her voice quieter this time.

He shook his head. “I promise.”

Finally, she let out a breath. Her shoulders sank a little, and she nodded, her fingers slowly pulling his sleeve back down.

“Good,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do if…”

She stopped herself, biting her lip before finishing that thought. Instead, she looked away, clearing her throat. “Sorry. Doctor instinct. I just… needed to be sure.”

Jungkook gave a soft chuckle. “No, I get it. It’s okay.”

Their eyes met—just for a second longer than necessary.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” he said, his voice a little lower.

Y/N managed a small smile. “Always.”

Behind them, Taehyung called her name. She turned her head, nodding toward him.

But before she walked away, her hand brushed against Jungkook’s one more time—a quiet touch. One she probably didn’t even realize she did.

But he did.

And he felt it all the way to his heart.

The command center buzzed with coordinated movement—soldiers barking orders, officers gathering gear, med kits being loaded into vehicles. The urgency thickened in the air like smoke, everyone working like clockwork in the middle of chaos.

“We need to have a basecamp,” Taehyung said firmly, standing at the center of it all, his military uniform crisp and imposing. “A place where we can stay safe and rescue survivors. Quarantine zones, medical areas, fortified rooms for the uninfected.”

“The best place for that is outside of the city,” Jungkook chimed in, his voice serious, brows furrowed. “Wide terrain. Easier to fortify, fewer structures that can block our view. We’ll see them coming before they get close.”

Taehyung nodded. “Then that’s the plan. Initiate clearing operations outside the city. I want a double barricade. Spread word to survivors.”

“How will we know they’re not infected?” Namjoon asked.

A moment of silence followed. Everyone exchanged looks, heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

“The temperature,” Y/N said, stepping forward, arms full of medical kits and supplies. “Eye color. Dilated pupils, abnormal muscle tension. We check for bite wounds. Anyone suspicious—we isolate.”

There was no room for doubt in her tone. She tossed a bag into the back of Jungkook’s police SUV and went back for another. Focused. Efficient. A doctor in full fight mode.

Jungkook silently helped her load the last of the kits into his car, the weight in his chest heavier than the gear on his back.

“All units, move out!” a soldier called.

Jungkook climbed into the driver’s seat of his car, adjusting his radio, eyes focused forward. Just drive. Just do your job.

Behind him, Taehyung reached for Y/N’s hand.

“Yeobo, come,” he said softly.

Y/N hesitated for a split second. Her eyes flicked toward Jungkook’s car. He was already seated, knuckles white around the steering wheel, jaw clenched.

But she turned and followed her husband.

Jungkook didn’t look. Didn’t flinch. Just started the engine like nothing happened.

But Namjoon, sliding into the passenger seat, saw it all. He closed the door with a sigh and glanced over.

“She’s his wife, Kook.”

“I know.”

Namjoon stayed quiet for a few seconds, then tried again. “But it still hurts, doesn’t it?”

Jungkook let out a soft scoff and shook his head. “Don’t start, hyung. I don’t feel anything.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. “Really? 'Cause the guy who’s been doing push-ups every morning just to catch a glimpse of her doesn’t sound like someone who feels nothing.”

“I’m focused. That’s it.”

“Right,” Namjoon said dryly. “Focused on pretending you’re not in love with someone else’s wife while you risk your life every day.”

Jungkook didn’t reply.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” Namjoon added after a pause.

Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tightened. “I’m not lying. I’m surviving.”

Namjoon turned to the window and leaned his head back. “Fine. Survive. But don’t lose yourself doing it.”

The drive out of the city was long and brutal—fires, overturned cars, empty streets littered with signs of what used to be life.

But inside Jungkook’s car, the silence between two brothers-in-arms said more than words ever could.

[bluelavendre]

Jimin: I just want to tell Y/n how I feel

Hobi: then do it

Jimin: Y/N!

Y/n: what do you want?

Jimin: HOBI WANTS TO TELL YOU SOMETHING

[bluelavendre]

Apocalypse

JJK x Reader ft. Namjoon &???

THIS IS PURE FICTION!!

Police officer jjk x Doctor Reader ft.???

1/??

The low hum of an approaching engine disrupted the quiet morning air. A black patrol car rolled to a smooth stop in front of a corner café tucked into a sleepy town street—quaint, quiet, and still unaware of the chaos that would one day come.

The driver’s side door creaked open, and out stepped a man who turned more than a few heads on a daily basis. Officer Jeon Jungkook. Broad shoulders stretched the seams of his uniform shirt, the tattoos winding down his arms just barely hidden beneath the fabric. His dark hair was brushed back, still damp from a morning shower, and a pair of sunglasses dangled carelessly between his fingers. He slid them on as he walked toward the café, the heavy soles of his boots thudding rhythmically on the pavement.

The bell above the café door gave a cheerful chime as he stepped inside, greeted by the rich aroma of coffee beans and warm pastries. It smelled like comfort, like routine—like everything that made life feel normal.

“Good morning, Officer Jeon! The usual?” called Minho, the young barista behind the counter, already grinning as he pulled two cups from the stack.

“Make it two today, Minho,” Jungkook said with a small smile, voice low and smooth.

Minho raised a brow knowingly. “Feeding the beast in the passenger seat?”

“Unfortunately,” Jungkook chuckled, pulling a few bills from his wallet.

Within minutes, two steaming cups of coffee and a paper bag filled with breakfast burritos were packed up and ready. Jungkook gave Minho a small nod of thanks before stepping back out into the crisp morning air.

He slid into the driver’s seat and handed over the goods. His partner, Officer Kim Namjoon, immediately perked up.

“Finally,” Namjoon said, lifting the lid off his coffee cup and taking a long sip. “Jeon Jungkook is buying breakfast. This is a historic day.”

“Don’t make it weird,” Jungkook muttered, biting into his burrito.

Their patrol car sat idling quietly at the curb as they ate, eyes casually scanning the street as morning life began to bloom—pedestrians with briefcases, joggers, a dog walker or two.

Then the café door opened again, and something—or rather, someone—shifted in Jungkook’s peripheral vision.

A woman stepped out, her coat fluttering slightly in the breeze. She was on the phone, her voice soft but purposeful. A doctor, judging by the embroidered name tag barely visible on her coat pocket. Hair pulled into a clean ponytail, a stethoscope hanging from her neck. Her every move was graceful, her presence quiet yet commanding.

Jungkook’s gaze lingered longer than it should have.

Namjoon, ever the observer, turned his head and caught the expression on his partner’s face. A teasing grin curled on his lips.

“Officer Jeon,” he said in a mockingly serious tone. “You forgot your sunglasses.”

Jungkook blinked. “Aish, Kim. What are you on about now?”

“I can literally see the puppy eyes,” Namjoon smirked, wiggling his brows like a high schooler watching his friend fall in love.

“She’s my neighbor, hyung,” Jungkook said defensively, but his voice lacked bite.

“Ohh,” Namjoon said with a slow nod. “I get it now. Jeon Jungkook—town hero, proud defender of the people, protector of the innocent—just casually keeping an eye out for the neighborhood doctor. How noble.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and started the engine, trying to hide the way his ears were burning.

“She’s married,” he added after a moment of silence.

Namjoon nearly choked on his burrito. “She’s what?!”

Jungkook didn’t respond. He just kept driving.

The tires crunched over gravel as their patrol car pulled into the lot behind the station. The morning sun glinted off the rows of parked cruisers, the building standing tall in its quiet authority. Jungkook killed the engine, grabbed the paper bag, and stepped out with a sigh, his boots hitting the ground with that familiar solid thud.

Namjoon scrambled out after him, still gripping his half-finished coffee.

“Wait—wait, are you for real?” he called, jogging to catch up. “She’s married? Married? To who? When?!”

Jungkook didn’t break stride as he pushed through the glass doors of the station.

“To who?” Namjoon repeated behind him. “She? That doctor? Your neighbor? What??”

Inside, the familiar scent of fresh paperwork and old floor polish filled the air. Officers passed them, nodding greetings, typing reports, making calls. Jungkook just walked faster, trying to lose his partner in the maze of desks and hallways.

“Move on, hyung,” Jungkook muttered, finally stopping by his locker. He opened it with a clang, swapping out his jacket, his expression unreadable.

Namjoon leaned on the wall beside him, still staring like he’d just been told Santa Claus was real and cheating on Mrs. Claus.

“I mean… I just didn’t expect that. She doesn’t wear a ring,” he said more quietly this time, voice finally softening.

“She used to,” Jungkook replied, not looking up.

Namjoon frowned. “Divorced?”

“No,” Jungkook said. “Military. He’s deployed. Hasn’t been home in years. But she still waits for him.”

That shut Namjoon up for a moment.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened slightly as he pulled out his body cam, checking the battery like it suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world. “So yeah… move on, hyung.”

Namjoon didn’t respond immediately. He just watched his partner in silence, something unspoken passing between them. He saw it now—the way Jungkook watched her, not just with attraction, but with quiet longing. A kind of ache no training could fix.

And maybe... the kind of ache that would only get worse.

Night had fallen, and the once-bustling streets were now quiet, bathed in the glow of streetlights and the occasional flicker of a passing car’s headlights. Jeon Jungkook sat behind the wheel of his patrol car, parked just outside his modest home. The engine clicked softly as it cooled, the radio silent for the first time all day.

He looked over.

Her car was already there—parked in its usual spot just next to his. And there she was.

Out in her front yard, crouched down with a small dish in her hands, she fed the same group of stray cats that always seemed to show up around dusk. She was barefoot, dressed in her familiar nighttime attire: a loose white top and a pair of worn-out Stitch pajama pants that looked two sizes too big—probably her husband's. There was a quiet comfort in how soft and normal it all felt.

Jungkook took a slow breath, adjusting his cap before stepping out of the car.

As if sensing him, she looked up with a small smile. “Good evening, Officer Jeon.”

Her voice was light, teasing, and yet… there was something warm in the way she said his name. Like he belonged in this tiny sliver of her world.

Jungkook felt something flutter in his chest. Damn that voice.

He tipped his cap, the one with the embroidered police emblem on the front. “Good evening, Doctor.”

She raised a brow, her smile growing. “The formalities again, Officer?”

He chuckled as he walked toward her yard. “You called me Officer first… and that’s the second time you’ve called me Doctor Y/L/N.”

“Fine, fine,” she said, waving him off playfully. “Good evening, Jungkook-shii.”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Feeding time, huh?”

“Yep,” she said simply, scratching one of the cats behind its ears. “They’re starting to expect me now. I’m probably in trouble if I ever forget.”

Jungkook leaned against the low fence, watching the cats briefly before glancing back at her. “How was your day?”

She sighed, the weariness finally catching up to her as she sat back on her heels. “Rough. We had… a boy come into the ER today. Maybe ten years old. Violent. Ferocious. It took four of us to hold him down. We thought it was rabies, but…” Her voice trailed off. “We’re still running tests.”

The easy atmosphere shifted slightly. Jungkook’s posture straightened, the officer in him taking over. “That doesn’t sound like just rabies,” he said, voice low. “You should be careful, Doc. Some things hide behind friendly faces.”

He nodded toward the cat closest to her feet. It looked up innocently with round eyes and a twitching tail.

She glanced at the cat, then back at him with a small, amused smile. “Note taken, sir.”

They stood there for a beat, the wind brushing lightly through the trees, the rustling leaves whispering like secrets in the dark.

“I should probably go inside,” she said softly, standing and brushing grass off her pants. “Goodnight again, Jungkook-shii.”

Jungkook gave her a small nod, watching as she stepped back into her yard, the porch light casting a soft halo around her as she opened her door. She turned back once more, smiled, and disappeared inside.

Only then did Jungkook finally head toward his own front door, unlocking it slowly, his eyes flicking one last time to her porch.

Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once.

Then again.

Louder.

And then it suddenly stopped.

The soft blue of early morning clung to the neighborhood like a blanket, cool and quiet. Birds were just beginning their morning songs, and the sky had only started its slow stretch toward dawn.

Jeon Jungkook was already outside.

His front porch creaked slightly under the rhythm of his push-ups—steady, controlled, but if you watched closely, you’d see his tempo waver every now and then. Not from fatigue.

From glancing toward the house next door.

The cool air kissed his skin, dew clinging to the wooden planks beneath him. His black tank top clung to his sculpted frame, soaked slightly with early sweat. The ink along his arms was on full display in the soft dawn light—script tattoos weaving around his right forearm, elegant cursive mingling with delicate symbols, a tiger lily peeking near the inside of his elbow. A bold eye on his forearm seemed to watch the world with him.

The one that always drew the most attention was the sleeve on his right hand—"Truth" and "Rather be dead than cool" etched between sharp black lines and sacred geometry, crawling up his wrist and knuckles like shadows from a dream. There was a faint glint of the “ARMY” tattoo just below his thumb—a tribute to loyalty and memory—and near the inside of his bicep, a barely noticeable date in Roman numerals. Something personal. Something he never talked about.

He told himself this was just part of his routine. Push-ups. Mind clear. Stay strong. Protect people.

But this morning, like every morning lately, it was more than that.

He was waiting.

And right on time, the porch light flicked on next door.

She stepped outside, barefoot and blinking sleep from her eyes. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, strands falling loose as she carried a steaming mug to the porch railing. Wrapped in an oversized cardigan and those familiar Stitch pajama pants—clearly from another life—she looked as soft and out of place in this gritty world as spring snow.

Jungkook paused, holding a push-up mid-motion. His gaze softened.

She looked around at the sound of paws and claws on wood—stray cats gathering near her like a daily ritual. She poured kibble into their little bowl and murmured something gentle he couldn’t hear from this distance.

Then, she looked up.

Their eyes met.

And she smiled.

“Do you ever sleep, Jungkook-shii?” she called across the stillness, her voice cracking a little from sleep.

He stood, grabbing the towel from the porch railing and casually wiping his arms—inking catching the light. “Morning cardio. Gotta stay in shape in case someone needs rescuing.”

She lifted her cup in mock salute. “Ah, the neighborhood hero returns.”

“Always on duty, Doctor,” he replied, lips tugging into a crooked smile.

But he noticed it—the brief flicker behind her eyes. The slight downturn of her mouth before she masked it with a sip of coffee.

“Everything alright?” he asked, lowering his voice.

She hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Just… weird dreams. And the hospital called earlier. The boy from yesterday—he’s missing.”

Jungkook’s easy demeanor vanished.

“Missing?” he repeated, brows knitting.

“They had him restrained. Last night’s security footage got corrupted somehow, and when the nurses did rounds this morning, he was just… gone.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. His hand unconsciously drifted to the tattoo over his chest, hidden under fabric—a symbol of resilience he got the day after his first failed case. A quiet reminder to never let things slip through the cracks.

“Could be something,” he said carefully. “I’ll check in with dispatch. See if anything’s been flagged overnight.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. “It’s probably nothing. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”

He didn’t respond. Because he wasn’t sure it was nothing.

A strange silence lingered between them, until she spoke again.

“Well… I should get ready for work. See you later, Jungkook-shii,” she said, offering a tired smile.

He nodded, eyes lingering on her a moment longer.

“Be safe, Doctor.”

She turned, disappearing inside.

And Jungkook stood there for a while longer, the cool air biting at his inked skin, unease creeping under his ribs.

Somewhere, deep in the city, another siren wailed.

Jungkook pulled into the precinct parking lot just as the city stirred to life. The rising sun painted the sky in smudges of coral and gray, but the air felt heavier than usual—like the day knew something no one else did yet.

He stepped out of the cruiser, fingers instinctively adjusting the bulletproof vest under his jacket. The precinct doors buzzed open, and he was immediately met with Namjoon pacing near the monitor wall, brows drawn tight.

“Jungkook,” he said, his tone clipped. “We’ve got another one. This one’s bad.”

Namjoon tapped the screen, and a grainy video clip began to play. It looked like security cam footage from a small gas station somewhere in the west outskirts of Seoul. A young man—barefoot, bloodied, twitching—stumbled into frame. The clerk behind the counter started shouting. But the boy didn’t flinch. His eyes were wide, unblinking. Feral.

Then he lunged.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched as he watched the chaos erupt on-screen. Screams. Shaking camera. The boy biting—tearing—into someone’s arm before the feed cut.

Namjoon exhaled shakily. “Same symptoms. Unresponsive to speech. Aggressive. Animalistic.”

Before Jungkook could respond, the precinct door banged open.

“ATTENTION!”

Every officer in the room snapped up from their stations. The chief walked in, tall and sharp in his pressed uniform, a file in one hand and urgency in his steps.

“At ease,” the chief barked, dropping the folder onto the front desk. “Listen up. Things are escalating.”

He looked at each officer, locking eyes.

“The hospital has started reporting a growing number of bite-related injuries. Mostly erratic behavior. Some… fatal. The government’s flagged this as a potential outbreak scenario. Low-level for now, but spreading.”

Murmurs broke out across the room. Jungkook didn’t move. His mind immediately flashed to her. The way she looked this morning. The concern in her voice when she said “we barely restrained him.”

The chief continued. “As of this morning, all precincts have been ordered to begin collaboration with local hospitals. Ours has been assigned to Seoul Medical East—where the first recorded case was brought in.”

Jungkook’s heart dropped.

That was her hospital.

“You’ll work closely with doctors for intel, security, and containment if necessary,” the chief said. “This is no longer just a public disturbance issue—it’s a medical emergency. Dismissed.”

Chairs scraped back as the officers got to work, some grouping around computer terminals, others checking radios and prepping riot gear. Namjoon nudged Jungkook, concern etched across his face.

“Your doctor friend,” he said quietly, “that’s her hospital, right?”

Jungkook nodded, grabbing his gear.

“Do you think she’s okay?”

He didn’t answer.

Because he didn’t know.

The convoy of police cruisers roared down the main avenue, their sirens piercing the thick tension in the air. Flashing red and blue lights danced across the hospital's white facade, casting eerie glows on panicked faces and shattered windows.

Jungkook gripped the steering wheel tightly, jaw locked, heart pounding like a war drum.

As soon as they arrived, the scene exploded before them—nurses screaming, patients writhing on stretchers, and doctors desperately trying to sedate bodies that thrashed like wild animals.

“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon whispered beside him, stepping out of the car. “It’s worse than the footage.”

The emergency entrance was a warzone. One nurse flew backward, her shoulder slammed by a middle-aged man foaming at the mouth. Another patient bit down hard on a stretcher’s metal rail, teeth cracking.

“READY, MEN!” the chief barked, voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. His hand shot into the air, commanding immediate formation.

“All teams—gear up! Secure perimeter, and assist medical staff where necessary. We are not here to kill—we are here to contain!” the chief ordered.

He turned sharply toward Jungkook, eyes hard. “Officer Jeon—I’m putting you in charge of interior containment with your squad.”

“Yes, sir!” Jungkook responded, saluting sharply.

He spun to his men, voice loud and unwavering despite the panic around them.

“Alpha team—assist the nurses in the ER, use riot shields if needed! Beta team, lock down the west hallway and keep ferals from crossing over to ICU! No guns unless absolutely necessary—we do not shoot civilians!”

“Yes, sir!” the officers responded, immediately breaking into teams.

Jungkook's boots thundered against the tile as he rushed inside, weaving through overturned chairs and knocked-over IV stands. The hospital interior looked like a scene from a horror movie—blood smeared on walls, flickering lights, oxygen tanks rolling loose across the floor.

He scanned faces—nurses, doctors, infected—desperately searching for one in particular.

Where was she?

Then—

Through a half-open door in the east wing, he heard a familiar voice.

“No—please stay still—you're hurting yourself! Mr. Han, stop—STOP!”

Jungkook burst into the room.

There she was—struggling to restrain an elderly patient whose face had turned a sickly gray, pupils dilated, veins dark and raised under translucent skin. He snarled and snapped at her like a rabid dog, knocking over a tray of medical tools.

Without thinking, Jungkook lunged forward.

He grabbed the old man from behind, using his strength to pin him against the wall.

“Doc, MOVE!” he shouted.

She stumbled back, panting, eyes wide with panic and relief.

“Jungkook-shii—he bit two nurses,” she gasped. “I couldn’t sedate him—he broke the restraints.”

Jungkook wrestled the man to the ground, twisting his wrists into an emergency zip tie restraint. “Namjoon!” he shouted into his radio, “Get two officers to Room 203! I need backup and a gurney!”

Static crackled before Namjoon responded. “On it!”

She was still breathing hard, her hands trembling. Jungkook looked up at her, eyes full of worry.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No. I—he almost got me, but I’m okay.”

Jungkook stood, his hand briefly brushing her arm. “You shouldn’t be here alone. I’ll keep you close.”

Outside the room, more screams echoed.

Jungkook’s expression darkened.

Something terrible was unfolding here.

BANG!

The thunderous sound of a gunshot echoed through the hospital hallway, sharp and deafening. Jungkook instinctively pulled her down behind a tipped-over gurney, shielding her body with his own as the high-pitched ringing filled his ears.

“NO SHOOTING!” Jungkook roared into his radio. “We’re surrounded by civilians—HOLD YOUR FIRE!”

But his voice barely cut through the chaos.

Inside the room, Mr. Han’s head snapped violently toward the nurse beside him—eyes wide, veins throbbing beneath his skin—and without warning, he lunged. His teeth sank into her neck before anyone could stop it.

“NO!” the nurse screamed—just once—before her voice turned into gurgled, wet gasps. Blood sprayed across the floor, slick and red.

Jungkook shoved her behind him. “Stay down!” he barked.

The nurse staggered backward, clawing at the wall—but her eyes were already changing. Dilated. Glazed. Her body twitched unnaturally, jerking in spasms that looked less like pain and more like possession.

She locked eyes with Jungkook.

And then—she lunged, growling.

“Kook, MOVE!”

The door slammed open and Namjoon charged in with two officers. Without hesitation, he raised his weapon and fired.

BANG. BANG.

The nurse’s body hit the ground hard, blood pooling beneath her. Mr. Han was next, restrained but still snarling like a beast, veins pulsing like snakes under his skin.

“We had no choice, Kook,” Namjoon said breathlessly, lowering his weapon. “They’re not human anymore. They’re too strong.”

Jungkook stood frozen for a moment, heart hammering in his chest. His mind struggled to catch up—one moment it was a hospital, the next, a battlefield.

She slowly stood beside him, blood splattered on her cheek, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

“This isn’t rabies…” she whispered, voice trembling. “It’s something worse.”

Jungkook turned to Namjoon. “Get the survivors out. Lock every damn hallway. We need quarantine zones—now.”

“On it,” Namjoon said, signaling his officers.

Jungkook turned back to her, voice soft but urgent.

“You’re coming with me.”

She hesitated. “I—I can’t leave my patients—”

“There are no more patients,” Jungkook said, eyes haunted. “There are only survivors.”

Their eyes met. And in that moment, they both knew:

Something had begun.

“We only have a few survivors, sir!” an officer reported, sweat dripping down his forehead, eyes wide with panic.

Jungkook, Y/N, and Namjoon sprinted toward the remaining cluster of police officers huddled near the ER exit. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance—closer now—and the once-bustling hospital was now a battlefield of overturned stretchers, broken glass, and moaning bodies.

“We need to move,” the Chief barked. His face was pale, his uniform stained with blood. His hand gripped his side tightly, but he kept his composure. “Fall back to the station—we need an emergency meeting. The military has been contacted. Reinforcements will arrive within the hour.”

Y/N stepped forward, catching the subtle shake in the Chief’s hand, the way he was trying not to limp. Her eyes narrowed—but she said nothing, keeping the observation to herself for now.

“Sir,” she said urgently, “some infected patients ran out into the streets. If we don’t act now, this won’t stay contained. We’ll need to evacuate the city. The virus—whatever this is—it spreads too fast.”

The Chief glanced at her, sweat beading on his brow. He hesitated just for a moment—barely long enough to notice.

“We’ll discuss it at the station,” he said. “Doctor, we’ll need you there. The government wants input from the frontline—we can’t stand out here any longer. It’s not safe.”

“Come on, Y/N,” Jungkook said, gently placing a hand on her back and guiding her toward his cruiser. The tension in his jaw was tighter than ever.

She slid into the front passenger seat, her fingers trembling slightly as she fumbled with the seatbelt. Jungkook slid into the driver’s side, immediately starting the engine. Namjoon took the back seat, loading his rifle beside him with grim silence.

As they pulled out, the scene around them grew worse with every block. Seoul had begun to fall.

Fires had broken out in the distance. Cars were abandoned in the middle of intersections. People ran down sidewalks screaming, dragging children behind them. Some banged on shop doors, begging to be let in. Others… weren’t human anymore.

A man slammed into their windshield briefly, growling—his face covered in blood—before he was thrown off as Jungkook swerved.

“This is hell already,” Namjoon muttered from the back seat, gripping his weapon tightly. “How the fuck did it spread this fast?”

Y/N stared out the window, watching as a woman knelt in the street, clutching the limp body of a child. “It’s air-borne, or blood-borne—or both,” she whispered. “The incubation time is almost nonexistent.”

Jungkook’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He didn’t speak. His eyes were fixed on the road, jaw locked, scanning every corner for threats. He was no longer just an officer. He was a protector now. Not just of the city—but of her.

“I’m getting you both to safety,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

The sirens faded as they neared the station.

But even there—chaos was waiting.

The police station, once a place of routine, reports, and quiet paperwork, had transformed into a nerve center buzzing with dread. Officers ran in and out, phones rang constantly, and the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with the weight of a city crumbling outside.

Inside the briefing room, the air was tense. Everyone was on edge—some still in their bloodied uniforms, others clearly fresh from patrols. Jungkook, Y/N, and Namjoon entered, the sound of their boots echoing off the tile floor. Y/N immediately felt the shift in atmosphere—this wasn’t just a city crisis anymore. This was a national emergency.

The Chief stood at the front, pale, with dark circles under his eyes. He gave her a quick glance—one that lingered just a little too long—but said nothing. Behind him, a projection screen blinked to life.

Security footage rolled.

One clip after another.

Doctors being dragged down hallways.

Nurses screaming as feral patients lunged at them.

A young boy in restraints suddenly snapping two guards' arms with unnatural strength.

A woman coughing up blood in an alleyway before attacking her own brother.

The room fell into silence except for the faint static of the audio feed. No one moved. No one blinked.

Y/N stepped forward, folding her arms tightly as she studied the footage. Her brows furrowed as she focused on the timelines, the proximity of interactions, and the symptoms.

“…It’s not airborne,” she said quietly but firmly. All eyes turned to her.

She turned toward the group. “If it were, everyone in that hospital—every nurse, every janitor, every person in that building—would have turned already. But they didn’t. The ones who were bitten or exposed to infected blood were the ones who transformed.”

She pointed at one clip. “See that nurse? She worked with multiple infected, stayed in the same room, didn’t wear a mask—still normal. But once Mr. Han bit her... transformation within minutes.”

Jungkook watched her with quiet intensity, admiring her ability to stay composed despite everything they'd seen. Her voice was steady—clinical—but he could see the tightness in her jaw. She was holding it together… barely.

Namjoon leaned back in his chair. “So it’s bites and blood. We’ve got to train every unit to keep distance. No physical holds. If they’re infected, don’t touch ‘em.”

The Chief nodded slowly, beads of sweat forming again on his temple. “Then we initiate biohazard protocol. Everyone on patrol wears protective gear from now on. Gloves. Masks. No bare skin exposure.”

Y/N added, “You’ll also need to set up testing checkpoints. If someone gets bitten—even grazed—they need to be isolated immediately. No exceptions.”

One young officer stood up, panicked. “But… they look normal at first, don’t they? How do we know who’s safe? How do we trust each other?”

Y/N’s eyes darkened. “That’s the hardest part. You don’t.”

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Outside, a dull rumble echoed in the distance. An explosion? A collapsing building? No one knew anymore. But one thing was clear—this wasn’t going away.

Jungkook's hand clenched into a fist at his side. He glanced over at Y/N, who was already looking at him.

They were in the middle of a war zone now.

And it was only just beginning.

“Sir, the military has arrived!” a young officer shouted, bursting into the briefing room.

Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone stood at once. The gravity of the moment hung thick in the air—if the military was here, the situation was worse than they thought.

Jungkook instinctively placed a gentle hand on Y/N’s back, guiding her along with the others as they moved toward the station’s entrance. Outside, the noise of engines and boots filled the streets. Military vehicles lined the roads—jeeps, armored trucks, and medical transports—forming a protective barrier around the police station.

Uniformed soldiers jumped down from the vehicles, barking orders and moving in tactical formations. Their presence was strong, authoritative, efficient… and grim.

Y/N stood between Jungkook and the Chief. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced at the older man. He looked… off.

His posture was stiff, and he wasn’t responding to the soldiers' arrival the way the others were. His breath was uneven, his skin pale, almost bluish. A thin line of sweat trickled down his temple, but when Y/N gently reached for his wrist—what she felt made her blood run cold.

His skin was ice.

“Chief…?” she asked quietly, stepping closer. “Your pulse—it's faint—”

Suddenly, his entire body jolted. His arm shot out, knocking her backward.

“Y/N!” Jungkook yelled, immediately reaching out to catch her, but the Chief lunged at her again—this time, fully transformed. His eyes had gone bloodshot, mouth snarling, strength unnatural for a man his age.

Jungkook tackled the Chief to the side, grunting as he struggled to restrain the infected man. The Chief’s hands clawed at his vest like a mad animal, teeth gnashing only inches from Jungkook’s throat.

“Get back! Don’t let him bite!” Jungkook shouted to the officers, who all hesitated, unsure what to do.

And then—bang!

A single shot rang through the chaos.

The Chief’s body slumped over Jungkook’s, lifeless.

Y/N gasped, eyes wide as the figure holding the still-smoking rifle came into view.

Kim Taehyung.

Wearing full military gear, rifle still raised, breath steady despite the scene before him. His eyes scanned the area before landing on her. The sharpness in his expression softened instantly.

“Y/N!” he called out.

She stumbled to her feet, blood on her sleeves, breath shaky—but her eyes locked onto his, and in seconds he was sprinting toward her. He dropped his rifle, arms outstretched as he enveloped her in a tight embrace, lifting her off the ground slightly as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“God, you’re safe,” he whispered into her hair. “You’re safe…”

Jungkook stood a few feet away, still catching his breath, watching the reunion unfold before him.

His eyes lingered on the way Taehyung held her, the way she clung back.

There was a pang in his chest—deep, quiet, and buried beneath years of discipline.

Namjoon appeared beside him, his voice low. “You okay, Kook?”

Jungkook gave a short nod, glancing down at the blood on his hands. “Yeah… I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t.

Not really.

Because even in the middle of a crumbling world, where the dead walked and the cities burned… she still belonged to someone else.

As the chaos began to settle, the Chief’s body was quickly covered, soldiers regrouped, and the area was secured. Orders echoed around them, but for a moment, Jungkook just stood still, chest rising and falling heavily, the echo of the gunshot still ringing in his ears.

Y/N gently pulled away from Taehyung, giving him a soft nod before turning toward Jungkook.

“Jungkook,” she said, moving quickly to his side. Her voice was sharp now—not formal, not clinical, but full of urgency. “Are you hurt? Did he… did he bite you?”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook replied, but she didn’t take his word for it.

She reached for his arm, her fingers brushing over the fabric of his uniform, eyes scanning him thoroughly.

“Take this off,” she ordered, tugging at his outer jacket. Jungkook blinked at her but obeyed, slipping the jacket off while Namjoon subtly stepped away to give them privacy.

Y/N’s eyes darted across his skin—his neck, his arms, the exposed skin near the collar of his shirt. Her fingers grazed along his forearm, checking for scratches or bites.

“Y/N,” he said softly, “I told you, I’m okay.”

“I need to be sure,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. Her brows were drawn tightly together, worry pulling at the corners of her mouth.

She pushed up his sleeve, revealing a stretch of tattooed skin—black ink curling along his veins, stories and symbols written in lines and shapes. For a second, her fingers paused, tracing one of them unconsciously.

Jungkook watched her. Felt the heat of her touch. The brush of her fingertips against his skin—gentle, like she was trying not to break him.

“You’re really not hurt?” she asked again, her voice quieter this time.

He shook his head. “I promise.”

Finally, she let out a breath. Her shoulders sank a little, and she nodded, her fingers slowly pulling his sleeve back down.

“Good,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do if…”

She stopped herself, biting her lip before finishing that thought. Instead, she looked away, clearing her throat. “Sorry. Doctor instinct. I just… needed to be sure.”

Jungkook gave a soft chuckle. “No, I get it. It’s okay.”

Their eyes met—just for a second longer than necessary.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” he said, his voice a little lower.

Y/N managed a small smile. “Always.”

Behind them, Taehyung called her name. She turned her head, nodding toward him.

But before she walked away, her hand brushed against Jungkook’s one more time—a quiet touch. One she probably didn’t even realize she did.

But he did.

And he felt it all the way to his heart.

The command center buzzed with coordinated movement—soldiers barking orders, officers gathering gear, med kits being loaded into vehicles. The urgency thickened in the air like smoke, everyone working like clockwork in the middle of chaos.

“We need to have a basecamp,” Taehyung said firmly, standing at the center of it all, his military uniform crisp and imposing. “A place where we can stay safe and rescue survivors. Quarantine zones, medical areas, fortified rooms for the uninfected.”

“The best place for that is outside of the city,” Jungkook chimed in, his voice serious, brows furrowed. “Wide terrain. Easier to fortify, fewer structures that can block our view. We’ll see them coming before they get close.”

Taehyung nodded. “Then that’s the plan. Initiate clearing operations outside the city. I want a double barricade. Spread word to survivors.”

“How will we know they’re not infected?” Namjoon asked.

A moment of silence followed. Everyone exchanged looks, heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

“The temperature,” Y/N said, stepping forward, arms full of medical kits and supplies. “Eye color. Dilated pupils, abnormal muscle tension. We check for bite wounds. Anyone suspicious—we isolate.”

There was no room for doubt in her tone. She tossed a bag into the back of Jungkook’s police SUV and went back for another. Focused. Efficient. A doctor in full fight mode.

Jungkook silently helped her load the last of the kits into his car, the weight in his chest heavier than the gear on his back.

“All units, move out!” a soldier called.

Jungkook climbed into the driver’s seat of his car, adjusting his radio, eyes focused forward. Just drive. Just do your job.

Behind him, Taehyung reached for Y/N’s hand.

“Yeobo, come,” he said softly.

Y/N hesitated for a split second. Her eyes flicked toward Jungkook’s car. He was already seated, knuckles white around the steering wheel, jaw clenched.

But she turned and followed her husband.

Jungkook didn’t look. Didn’t flinch. Just started the engine like nothing happened.

But Namjoon, sliding into the passenger seat, saw it all. He closed the door with a sigh and glanced over.

“She’s his wife, Kook.”

“I know.”

Namjoon stayed quiet for a few seconds, then tried again. “But it still hurts, doesn’t it?”

Jungkook let out a soft scoff and shook his head. “Don’t start, hyung. I don’t feel anything.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. “Really? 'Cause the guy who’s been doing push-ups every morning just to catch a glimpse of her doesn’t sound like someone who feels nothing.”

“I’m focused. That’s it.”

“Right,” Namjoon said dryly. “Focused on pretending you’re not in love with someone else’s wife while you risk your life every day.”

Jungkook didn’t reply.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” Namjoon added after a pause.

Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tightened. “I’m not lying. I’m surviving.”

Namjoon turned to the window and leaned his head back. “Fine. Survive. But don’t lose yourself doing it.”

The drive out of the city was long and brutal—fires, overturned cars, empty streets littered with signs of what used to be life.

But inside Jungkook’s car, the silence between two brothers-in-arms said more than words ever could.

[bluelavendre]

Apocalypse

JJK x Reader ft. Namjoon &???

THIS IS PURE FICTION!!

Police officer jjk x Doctor Reader ft.???

1/??

The low hum of an approaching engine disrupted the quiet morning air. A black patrol car rolled to a smooth stop in front of a corner café tucked into a sleepy town street—quaint, quiet, and still unaware of the chaos that would one day come.

The driver’s side door creaked open, and out stepped a man who turned more than a few heads on a daily basis. Officer Jeon Jungkook. Broad shoulders stretched the seams of his uniform shirt, the tattoos winding down his arms just barely hidden beneath the fabric. His dark hair was brushed back, still damp from a morning shower, and a pair of sunglasses dangled carelessly between his fingers. He slid them on as he walked toward the café, the heavy soles of his boots thudding rhythmically on the pavement.

The bell above the café door gave a cheerful chime as he stepped inside, greeted by the rich aroma of coffee beans and warm pastries. It smelled like comfort, like routine—like everything that made life feel normal.

“Good morning, Officer Jeon! The usual?” called Minho, the young barista behind the counter, already grinning as he pulled two cups from the stack.

“Make it two today, Minho,” Jungkook said with a small smile, voice low and smooth.

Minho raised a brow knowingly. “Feeding the beast in the passenger seat?”

“Unfortunately,” Jungkook chuckled, pulling a few bills from his wallet.

Within minutes, two steaming cups of coffee and a paper bag filled with breakfast burritos were packed up and ready. Jungkook gave Minho a small nod of thanks before stepping back out into the crisp morning air.

He slid into the driver’s seat and handed over the goods. His partner, Officer Kim Namjoon, immediately perked up.

“Finally,” Namjoon said, lifting the lid off his coffee cup and taking a long sip. “Jeon Jungkook is buying breakfast. This is a historic day.”

“Don’t make it weird,” Jungkook muttered, biting into his burrito.

Their patrol car sat idling quietly at the curb as they ate, eyes casually scanning the street as morning life began to bloom—pedestrians with briefcases, joggers, a dog walker or two.

Then the café door opened again, and something—or rather, someone—shifted in Jungkook’s peripheral vision.

A woman stepped out, her coat fluttering slightly in the breeze. She was on the phone, her voice soft but purposeful. A doctor, judging by the embroidered name tag barely visible on her coat pocket. Hair pulled into a clean ponytail, a stethoscope hanging from her neck. Her every move was graceful, her presence quiet yet commanding.

Jungkook’s gaze lingered longer than it should have.

Namjoon, ever the observer, turned his head and caught the expression on his partner’s face. A teasing grin curled on his lips.

“Officer Jeon,” he said in a mockingly serious tone. “You forgot your sunglasses.”

Jungkook blinked. “Aish, Kim. What are you on about now?”

“I can literally see the puppy eyes,” Namjoon smirked, wiggling his brows like a high schooler watching his friend fall in love.

“She’s my neighbor, hyung,” Jungkook said defensively, but his voice lacked bite.

“Ohh,” Namjoon said with a slow nod. “I get it now. Jeon Jungkook—town hero, proud defender of the people, protector of the innocent—just casually keeping an eye out for the neighborhood doctor. How noble.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and started the engine, trying to hide the way his ears were burning.

“She’s married,” he added after a moment of silence.

Namjoon nearly choked on his burrito. “She’s what?!”

Jungkook didn’t respond. He just kept driving.

The tires crunched over gravel as their patrol car pulled into the lot behind the station. The morning sun glinted off the rows of parked cruisers, the building standing tall in its quiet authority. Jungkook killed the engine, grabbed the paper bag, and stepped out with a sigh, his boots hitting the ground with that familiar solid thud.

Namjoon scrambled out after him, still gripping his half-finished coffee.

“Wait—wait, are you for real?” he called, jogging to catch up. “She’s married? Married? To who? When?!”

Jungkook didn’t break stride as he pushed through the glass doors of the station.

“To who?” Namjoon repeated behind him. “She? That doctor? Your neighbor? What??”

Inside, the familiar scent of fresh paperwork and old floor polish filled the air. Officers passed them, nodding greetings, typing reports, making calls. Jungkook just walked faster, trying to lose his partner in the maze of desks and hallways.

“Move on, hyung,” Jungkook muttered, finally stopping by his locker. He opened it with a clang, swapping out his jacket, his expression unreadable.

Namjoon leaned on the wall beside him, still staring like he’d just been told Santa Claus was real and cheating on Mrs. Claus.

“I mean… I just didn’t expect that. She doesn’t wear a ring,” he said more quietly this time, voice finally softening.

“She used to,” Jungkook replied, not looking up.

Namjoon frowned. “Divorced?”

“No,” Jungkook said. “Military. He’s deployed. Hasn’t been home in years. But she still waits for him.”

That shut Namjoon up for a moment.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened slightly as he pulled out his body cam, checking the battery like it suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world. “So yeah… move on, hyung.”

Namjoon didn’t respond immediately. He just watched his partner in silence, something unspoken passing between them. He saw it now—the way Jungkook watched her, not just with attraction, but with quiet longing. A kind of ache no training could fix.

And maybe... the kind of ache that would only get worse.

Night had fallen, and the once-bustling streets were now quiet, bathed in the glow of streetlights and the occasional flicker of a passing car’s headlights. Jeon Jungkook sat behind the wheel of his patrol car, parked just outside his modest home. The engine clicked softly as it cooled, the radio silent for the first time all day.

He looked over.

Her car was already there—parked in its usual spot just next to his. And there she was.

Out in her front yard, crouched down with a small dish in her hands, she fed the same group of stray cats that always seemed to show up around dusk. She was barefoot, dressed in her familiar nighttime attire: a loose white top and a pair of worn-out Stitch pajama pants that looked two sizes too big—probably her husband's. There was a quiet comfort in how soft and normal it all felt.

Jungkook took a slow breath, adjusting his cap before stepping out of the car.

As if sensing him, she looked up with a small smile. “Good evening, Officer Jeon.”

Her voice was light, teasing, and yet… there was something warm in the way she said his name. Like he belonged in this tiny sliver of her world.

Jungkook felt something flutter in his chest. Damn that voice.

He tipped his cap, the one with the embroidered police emblem on the front. “Good evening, Doctor.”

She raised a brow, her smile growing. “The formalities again, Officer?”

He chuckled as he walked toward her yard. “You called me Officer first… and that’s the second time you’ve called me Doctor Y/L/N.”

“Fine, fine,” she said, waving him off playfully. “Good evening, Jungkook-shii.”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Feeding time, huh?”

“Yep,” she said simply, scratching one of the cats behind its ears. “They’re starting to expect me now. I’m probably in trouble if I ever forget.”

Jungkook leaned against the low fence, watching the cats briefly before glancing back at her. “How was your day?”

She sighed, the weariness finally catching up to her as she sat back on her heels. “Rough. We had… a boy come into the ER today. Maybe ten years old. Violent. Ferocious. It took four of us to hold him down. We thought it was rabies, but…” Her voice trailed off. “We’re still running tests.”

The easy atmosphere shifted slightly. Jungkook’s posture straightened, the officer in him taking over. “That doesn’t sound like just rabies,” he said, voice low. “You should be careful, Doc. Some things hide behind friendly faces.”

He nodded toward the cat closest to her feet. It looked up innocently with round eyes and a twitching tail.

She glanced at the cat, then back at him with a small, amused smile. “Note taken, sir.”

They stood there for a beat, the wind brushing lightly through the trees, the rustling leaves whispering like secrets in the dark.

“I should probably go inside,” she said softly, standing and brushing grass off her pants. “Goodnight again, Jungkook-shii.”

Jungkook gave her a small nod, watching as she stepped back into her yard, the porch light casting a soft halo around her as she opened her door. She turned back once more, smiled, and disappeared inside.

Only then did Jungkook finally head toward his own front door, unlocking it slowly, his eyes flicking one last time to her porch.

Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once.

Then again.

Louder.

And then it suddenly stopped.

The soft blue of early morning clung to the neighborhood like a blanket, cool and quiet. Birds were just beginning their morning songs, and the sky had only started its slow stretch toward dawn.

Jeon Jungkook was already outside.

His front porch creaked slightly under the rhythm of his push-ups—steady, controlled, but if you watched closely, you’d see his tempo waver every now and then. Not from fatigue.

From glancing toward the house next door.

The cool air kissed his skin, dew clinging to the wooden planks beneath him. His black tank top clung to his sculpted frame, soaked slightly with early sweat. The ink along his arms was on full display in the soft dawn light—script tattoos weaving around his right forearm, elegant cursive mingling with delicate symbols, a tiger lily peeking near the inside of his elbow. A bold eye on his forearm seemed to watch the world with him.

The one that always drew the most attention was the sleeve on his right hand—"Truth" and "Rather be dead than cool" etched between sharp black lines and sacred geometry, crawling up his wrist and knuckles like shadows from a dream. There was a faint glint of the “ARMY” tattoo just below his thumb—a tribute to loyalty and memory—and near the inside of his bicep, a barely noticeable date in Roman numerals. Something personal. Something he never talked about.

He told himself this was just part of his routine. Push-ups. Mind clear. Stay strong. Protect people.

But this morning, like every morning lately, it was more than that.

He was waiting.

And right on time, the porch light flicked on next door.

She stepped outside, barefoot and blinking sleep from her eyes. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, strands falling loose as she carried a steaming mug to the porch railing. Wrapped in an oversized cardigan and those familiar Stitch pajama pants—clearly from another life—she looked as soft and out of place in this gritty world as spring snow.

Jungkook paused, holding a push-up mid-motion. His gaze softened.

She looked around at the sound of paws and claws on wood—stray cats gathering near her like a daily ritual. She poured kibble into their little bowl and murmured something gentle he couldn’t hear from this distance.

Then, she looked up.

Their eyes met.

And she smiled.

“Do you ever sleep, Jungkook-shii?” she called across the stillness, her voice cracking a little from sleep.

He stood, grabbing the towel from the porch railing and casually wiping his arms—inking catching the light. “Morning cardio. Gotta stay in shape in case someone needs rescuing.”

She lifted her cup in mock salute. “Ah, the neighborhood hero returns.”

“Always on duty, Doctor,” he replied, lips tugging into a crooked smile.

But he noticed it—the brief flicker behind her eyes. The slight downturn of her mouth before she masked it with a sip of coffee.

“Everything alright?” he asked, lowering his voice.

She hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Just… weird dreams. And the hospital called earlier. The boy from yesterday—he’s missing.”

Jungkook’s easy demeanor vanished.

“Missing?” he repeated, brows knitting.

“They had him restrained. Last night’s security footage got corrupted somehow, and when the nurses did rounds this morning, he was just… gone.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. His hand unconsciously drifted to the tattoo over his chest, hidden under fabric—a symbol of resilience he got the day after his first failed case. A quiet reminder to never let things slip through the cracks.

“Could be something,” he said carefully. “I’ll check in with dispatch. See if anything’s been flagged overnight.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. “It’s probably nothing. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”

He didn’t respond. Because he wasn’t sure it was nothing.

A strange silence lingered between them, until she spoke again.

“Well… I should get ready for work. See you later, Jungkook-shii,” she said, offering a tired smile.

He nodded, eyes lingering on her a moment longer.

“Be safe, Doctor.”

She turned, disappearing inside.

And Jungkook stood there for a while longer, the cool air biting at his inked skin, unease creeping under his ribs.

Somewhere, deep in the city, another siren wailed.

Jungkook pulled into the precinct parking lot just as the city stirred to life. The rising sun painted the sky in smudges of coral and gray, but the air felt heavier than usual—like the day knew something no one else did yet.

He stepped out of the cruiser, fingers instinctively adjusting the bulletproof vest under his jacket. The precinct doors buzzed open, and he was immediately met with Namjoon pacing near the monitor wall, brows drawn tight.

“Jungkook,” he said, his tone clipped. “We’ve got another one. This one’s bad.”

Namjoon tapped the screen, and a grainy video clip began to play. It looked like security cam footage from a small gas station somewhere in the west outskirts of Seoul. A young man—barefoot, bloodied, twitching—stumbled into frame. The clerk behind the counter started shouting. But the boy didn’t flinch. His eyes were wide, unblinking. Feral.

Then he lunged.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched as he watched the chaos erupt on-screen. Screams. Shaking camera. The boy biting—tearing—into someone’s arm before the feed cut.

Namjoon exhaled shakily. “Same symptoms. Unresponsive to speech. Aggressive. Animalistic.”

Before Jungkook could respond, the precinct door banged open.

“ATTENTION!”

Every officer in the room snapped up from their stations. The chief walked in, tall and sharp in his pressed uniform, a file in one hand and urgency in his steps.

“At ease,” the chief barked, dropping the folder onto the front desk. “Listen up. Things are escalating.”

He looked at each officer, locking eyes.

“The hospital has started reporting a growing number of bite-related injuries. Mostly erratic behavior. Some… fatal. The government’s flagged this as a potential outbreak scenario. Low-level for now, but spreading.”

Murmurs broke out across the room. Jungkook didn’t move. His mind immediately flashed to her. The way she looked this morning. The concern in her voice when she said “we barely restrained him.”

The chief continued. “As of this morning, all precincts have been ordered to begin collaboration with local hospitals. Ours has been assigned to Seoul Medical East—where the first recorded case was brought in.”

Jungkook’s heart dropped.

That was her hospital.

“You’ll work closely with doctors for intel, security, and containment if necessary,” the chief said. “This is no longer just a public disturbance issue—it’s a medical emergency. Dismissed.”

Chairs scraped back as the officers got to work, some grouping around computer terminals, others checking radios and prepping riot gear. Namjoon nudged Jungkook, concern etched across his face.

“Your doctor friend,” he said quietly, “that’s her hospital, right?”

Jungkook nodded, grabbing his gear.

“Do you think she’s okay?”

He didn’t answer.

Because he didn’t know.

The convoy of police cruisers roared down the main avenue, their sirens piercing the thick tension in the air. Flashing red and blue lights danced across the hospital's white facade, casting eerie glows on panicked faces and shattered windows.

Jungkook gripped the steering wheel tightly, jaw locked, heart pounding like a war drum.

As soon as they arrived, the scene exploded before them—nurses screaming, patients writhing on stretchers, and doctors desperately trying to sedate bodies that thrashed like wild animals.

“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon whispered beside him, stepping out of the car. “It’s worse than the footage.”

The emergency entrance was a warzone. One nurse flew backward, her shoulder slammed by a middle-aged man foaming at the mouth. Another patient bit down hard on a stretcher’s metal rail, teeth cracking.

“READY, MEN!” the chief barked, voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. His hand shot into the air, commanding immediate formation.

“All teams—gear up! Secure perimeter, and assist medical staff where necessary. We are not here to kill—we are here to contain!” the chief ordered.

He turned sharply toward Jungkook, eyes hard. “Officer Jeon—I’m putting you in charge of interior containment with your squad.”

“Yes, sir!” Jungkook responded, saluting sharply.

He spun to his men, voice loud and unwavering despite the panic around them.

“Alpha team—assist the nurses in the ER, use riot shields if needed! Beta team, lock down the west hallway and keep ferals from crossing over to ICU! No guns unless absolutely necessary—we do not shoot civilians!”

“Yes, sir!” the officers responded, immediately breaking into teams.

Jungkook's boots thundered against the tile as he rushed inside, weaving through overturned chairs and knocked-over IV stands. The hospital interior looked like a scene from a horror movie—blood smeared on walls, flickering lights, oxygen tanks rolling loose across the floor.

He scanned faces—nurses, doctors, infected—desperately searching for one in particular.

Where was she?

Then—

Through a half-open door in the east wing, he heard a familiar voice.

“No—please stay still—you're hurting yourself! Mr. Han, stop—STOP!”

Jungkook burst into the room.

There she was—struggling to restrain an elderly patient whose face had turned a sickly gray, pupils dilated, veins dark and raised under translucent skin. He snarled and snapped at her like a rabid dog, knocking over a tray of medical tools.

Without thinking, Jungkook lunged forward.

He grabbed the old man from behind, using his strength to pin him against the wall.

“Doc, MOVE!” he shouted.

She stumbled back, panting, eyes wide with panic and relief.

“Jungkook-shii—he bit two nurses,” she gasped. “I couldn’t sedate him—he broke the restraints.”

Jungkook wrestled the man to the ground, twisting his wrists into an emergency zip tie restraint. “Namjoon!” he shouted into his radio, “Get two officers to Room 203! I need backup and a gurney!”

Static crackled before Namjoon responded. “On it!”

She was still breathing hard, her hands trembling. Jungkook looked up at her, eyes full of worry.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No. I—he almost got me, but I’m okay.”

Jungkook stood, his hand briefly brushing her arm. “You shouldn’t be here alone. I’ll keep you close.”

Outside the room, more screams echoed.

Jungkook’s expression darkened.

Something terrible was unfolding here.

BANG!

The thunderous sound of a gunshot echoed through the hospital hallway, sharp and deafening. Jungkook instinctively pulled her down behind a tipped-over gurney, shielding her body with his own as the high-pitched ringing filled his ears.

“NO SHOOTING!” Jungkook roared into his radio. “We’re surrounded by civilians—HOLD YOUR FIRE!”

But his voice barely cut through the chaos.

Inside the room, Mr. Han’s head snapped violently toward the nurse beside him—eyes wide, veins throbbing beneath his skin—and without warning, he lunged. His teeth sank into her neck before anyone could stop it.

“NO!” the nurse screamed—just once—before her voice turned into gurgled, wet gasps. Blood sprayed across the floor, slick and red.

Jungkook shoved her behind him. “Stay down!” he barked.

The nurse staggered backward, clawing at the wall—but her eyes were already changing. Dilated. Glazed. Her body twitched unnaturally, jerking in spasms that looked less like pain and more like possession.

She locked eyes with Jungkook.

And then—she lunged, growling.

“Kook, MOVE!”

The door slammed open and Namjoon charged in with two officers. Without hesitation, he raised his weapon and fired.

BANG. BANG.

The nurse’s body hit the ground hard, blood pooling beneath her. Mr. Han was next, restrained but still snarling like a beast, veins pulsing like snakes under his skin.

“We had no choice, Kook,” Namjoon said breathlessly, lowering his weapon. “They’re not human anymore. They’re too strong.”

Jungkook stood frozen for a moment, heart hammering in his chest. His mind struggled to catch up—one moment it was a hospital, the next, a battlefield.

She slowly stood beside him, blood splattered on her cheek, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

“This isn’t rabies…” she whispered, voice trembling. “It’s something worse.”

Jungkook turned to Namjoon. “Get the survivors out. Lock every damn hallway. We need quarantine zones—now.”

“On it,” Namjoon said, signaling his officers.

Jungkook turned back to her, voice soft but urgent.

“You’re coming with me.”

She hesitated. “I—I can’t leave my patients—”

“There are no more patients,” Jungkook said, eyes haunted. “There are only survivors.”

Their eyes met. And in that moment, they both knew:

Something had begun.

“We only have a few survivors, sir!” an officer reported, sweat dripping down his forehead, eyes wide with panic.

Jungkook, Y/N, and Namjoon sprinted toward the remaining cluster of police officers huddled near the ER exit. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance—closer now—and the once-bustling hospital was now a battlefield of overturned stretchers, broken glass, and moaning bodies.

“We need to move,” the Chief barked. His face was pale, his uniform stained with blood. His hand gripped his side tightly, but he kept his composure. “Fall back to the station—we need an emergency meeting. The military has been contacted. Reinforcements will arrive within the hour.”

Y/N stepped forward, catching the subtle shake in the Chief’s hand, the way he was trying not to limp. Her eyes narrowed—but she said nothing, keeping the observation to herself for now.

“Sir,” she said urgently, “some infected patients ran out into the streets. If we don’t act now, this won’t stay contained. We’ll need to evacuate the city. The virus—whatever this is—it spreads too fast.”

The Chief glanced at her, sweat beading on his brow. He hesitated just for a moment—barely long enough to notice.

“We’ll discuss it at the station,” he said. “Doctor, we’ll need you there. The government wants input from the frontline—we can’t stand out here any longer. It’s not safe.”

“Come on, Y/N,” Jungkook said, gently placing a hand on her back and guiding her toward his cruiser. The tension in his jaw was tighter than ever.

She slid into the front passenger seat, her fingers trembling slightly as she fumbled with the seatbelt. Jungkook slid into the driver’s side, immediately starting the engine. Namjoon took the back seat, loading his rifle beside him with grim silence.

As they pulled out, the scene around them grew worse with every block. Seoul had begun to fall.

Fires had broken out in the distance. Cars were abandoned in the middle of intersections. People ran down sidewalks screaming, dragging children behind them. Some banged on shop doors, begging to be let in. Others… weren’t human anymore.

A man slammed into their windshield briefly, growling—his face covered in blood—before he was thrown off as Jungkook swerved.

“This is hell already,” Namjoon muttered from the back seat, gripping his weapon tightly. “How the fuck did it spread this fast?”

Y/N stared out the window, watching as a woman knelt in the street, clutching the limp body of a child. “It’s air-borne, or blood-borne—or both,” she whispered. “The incubation time is almost nonexistent.”

Jungkook’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He didn’t speak. His eyes were fixed on the road, jaw locked, scanning every corner for threats. He was no longer just an officer. He was a protector now. Not just of the city—but of her.

“I’m getting you both to safety,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

The sirens faded as they neared the station.

But even there—chaos was waiting.

The police station, once a place of routine, reports, and quiet paperwork, had transformed into a nerve center buzzing with dread. Officers ran in and out, phones rang constantly, and the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with the weight of a city crumbling outside.

Inside the briefing room, the air was tense. Everyone was on edge—some still in their bloodied uniforms, others clearly fresh from patrols. Jungkook, Y/N, and Namjoon entered, the sound of their boots echoing off the tile floor. Y/N immediately felt the shift in atmosphere—this wasn’t just a city crisis anymore. This was a national emergency.

The Chief stood at the front, pale, with dark circles under his eyes. He gave her a quick glance—one that lingered just a little too long—but said nothing. Behind him, a projection screen blinked to life.

Security footage rolled.

One clip after another.

Doctors being dragged down hallways.

Nurses screaming as feral patients lunged at them.

A young boy in restraints suddenly snapping two guards' arms with unnatural strength.

A woman coughing up blood in an alleyway before attacking her own brother.

The room fell into silence except for the faint static of the audio feed. No one moved. No one blinked.

Y/N stepped forward, folding her arms tightly as she studied the footage. Her brows furrowed as she focused on the timelines, the proximity of interactions, and the symptoms.

“…It’s not airborne,” she said quietly but firmly. All eyes turned to her.

She turned toward the group. “If it were, everyone in that hospital—every nurse, every janitor, every person in that building—would have turned already. But they didn’t. The ones who were bitten or exposed to infected blood were the ones who transformed.”

She pointed at one clip. “See that nurse? She worked with multiple infected, stayed in the same room, didn’t wear a mask—still normal. But once Mr. Han bit her... transformation within minutes.”

Jungkook watched her with quiet intensity, admiring her ability to stay composed despite everything they'd seen. Her voice was steady—clinical—but he could see the tightness in her jaw. She was holding it together… barely.

Namjoon leaned back in his chair. “So it’s bites and blood. We’ve got to train every unit to keep distance. No physical holds. If they’re infected, don’t touch ‘em.”

The Chief nodded slowly, beads of sweat forming again on his temple. “Then we initiate biohazard protocol. Everyone on patrol wears protective gear from now on. Gloves. Masks. No bare skin exposure.”

Y/N added, “You’ll also need to set up testing checkpoints. If someone gets bitten—even grazed—they need to be isolated immediately. No exceptions.”

One young officer stood up, panicked. “But… they look normal at first, don’t they? How do we know who’s safe? How do we trust each other?”

Y/N’s eyes darkened. “That’s the hardest part. You don’t.”

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Outside, a dull rumble echoed in the distance. An explosion? A collapsing building? No one knew anymore. But one thing was clear—this wasn’t going away.

Jungkook's hand clenched into a fist at his side. He glanced over at Y/N, who was already looking at him.

They were in the middle of a war zone now.

And it was only just beginning.

“Sir, the military has arrived!” a young officer shouted, bursting into the briefing room.

Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone stood at once. The gravity of the moment hung thick in the air—if the military was here, the situation was worse than they thought.

Jungkook instinctively placed a gentle hand on Y/N’s back, guiding her along with the others as they moved toward the station’s entrance. Outside, the noise of engines and boots filled the streets. Military vehicles lined the roads—jeeps, armored trucks, and medical transports—forming a protective barrier around the police station.

Uniformed soldiers jumped down from the vehicles, barking orders and moving in tactical formations. Their presence was strong, authoritative, efficient… and grim.

Y/N stood between Jungkook and the Chief. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced at the older man. He looked… off.

His posture was stiff, and he wasn’t responding to the soldiers' arrival the way the others were. His breath was uneven, his skin pale, almost bluish. A thin line of sweat trickled down his temple, but when Y/N gently reached for his wrist—what she felt made her blood run cold.

His skin was ice.

“Chief…?” she asked quietly, stepping closer. “Your pulse—it's faint—”

Suddenly, his entire body jolted. His arm shot out, knocking her backward.

“Y/N!” Jungkook yelled, immediately reaching out to catch her, but the Chief lunged at her again—this time, fully transformed. His eyes had gone bloodshot, mouth snarling, strength unnatural for a man his age.

Jungkook tackled the Chief to the side, grunting as he struggled to restrain the infected man. The Chief’s hands clawed at his vest like a mad animal, teeth gnashing only inches from Jungkook’s throat.

“Get back! Don’t let him bite!” Jungkook shouted to the officers, who all hesitated, unsure what to do.

And then—bang!

A single shot rang through the chaos.

The Chief’s body slumped over Jungkook’s, lifeless.

Y/N gasped, eyes wide as the figure holding the still-smoking rifle came into view.

Kim Taehyung.

Wearing full military gear, rifle still raised, breath steady despite the scene before him. His eyes scanned the area before landing on her. The sharpness in his expression softened instantly.

“Y/N!” he called out.

She stumbled to her feet, blood on her sleeves, breath shaky—but her eyes locked onto his, and in seconds he was sprinting toward her. He dropped his rifle, arms outstretched as he enveloped her in a tight embrace, lifting her off the ground slightly as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“God, you’re safe,” he whispered into her hair. “You’re safe…”

Jungkook stood a few feet away, still catching his breath, watching the reunion unfold before him.

His eyes lingered on the way Taehyung held her, the way she clung back.

There was a pang in his chest—deep, quiet, and buried beneath years of discipline.

Namjoon appeared beside him, his voice low. “You okay, Kook?”

Jungkook gave a short nod, glancing down at the blood on his hands. “Yeah… I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t.

Not really.

Because even in the middle of a crumbling world, where the dead walked and the cities burned… she still belonged to someone else.

As the chaos began to settle, the Chief’s body was quickly covered, soldiers regrouped, and the area was secured. Orders echoed around them, but for a moment, Jungkook just stood still, chest rising and falling heavily, the echo of the gunshot still ringing in his ears.

Y/N gently pulled away from Taehyung, giving him a soft nod before turning toward Jungkook.

“Jungkook,” she said, moving quickly to his side. Her voice was sharp now—not formal, not clinical, but full of urgency. “Are you hurt? Did he… did he bite you?”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook replied, but she didn’t take his word for it.

She reached for his arm, her fingers brushing over the fabric of his uniform, eyes scanning him thoroughly.

“Take this off,” she ordered, tugging at his outer jacket. Jungkook blinked at her but obeyed, slipping the jacket off while Namjoon subtly stepped away to give them privacy.

Y/N’s eyes darted across his skin—his neck, his arms, the exposed skin near the collar of his shirt. Her fingers grazed along his forearm, checking for scratches or bites.

“Y/N,” he said softly, “I told you, I’m okay.”

“I need to be sure,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. Her brows were drawn tightly together, worry pulling at the corners of her mouth.

She pushed up his sleeve, revealing a stretch of tattooed skin—black ink curling along his veins, stories and symbols written in lines and shapes. For a second, her fingers paused, tracing one of them unconsciously.

Jungkook watched her. Felt the heat of her touch. The brush of her fingertips against his skin—gentle, like she was trying not to break him.

“You’re really not hurt?” she asked again, her voice quieter this time.

He shook his head. “I promise.”

Finally, she let out a breath. Her shoulders sank a little, and she nodded, her fingers slowly pulling his sleeve back down.

“Good,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do if…”

She stopped herself, biting her lip before finishing that thought. Instead, she looked away, clearing her throat. “Sorry. Doctor instinct. I just… needed to be sure.”

Jungkook gave a soft chuckle. “No, I get it. It’s okay.”

Their eyes met—just for a second longer than necessary.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” he said, his voice a little lower.

Y/N managed a small smile. “Always.”

Behind them, Taehyung called her name. She turned her head, nodding toward him.

But before she walked away, her hand brushed against Jungkook’s one more time—a quiet touch. One she probably didn’t even realize she did.

But he did.

And he felt it all the way to his heart.

The command center buzzed with coordinated movement—soldiers barking orders, officers gathering gear, med kits being loaded into vehicles. The urgency thickened in the air like smoke, everyone working like clockwork in the middle of chaos.

“We need to have a basecamp,” Taehyung said firmly, standing at the center of it all, his military uniform crisp and imposing. “A place where we can stay safe and rescue survivors. Quarantine zones, medical areas, fortified rooms for the uninfected.”

“The best place for that is outside of the city,” Jungkook chimed in, his voice serious, brows furrowed. “Wide terrain. Easier to fortify, fewer structures that can block our view. We’ll see them coming before they get close.”

Taehyung nodded. “Then that’s the plan. Initiate clearing operations outside the city. I want a double barricade. Spread word to survivors.”

“How will we know they’re not infected?” Namjoon asked.

A moment of silence followed. Everyone exchanged looks, heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

“The temperature,” Y/N said, stepping forward, arms full of medical kits and supplies. “Eye color. Dilated pupils, abnormal muscle tension. We check for bite wounds. Anyone suspicious—we isolate.”

There was no room for doubt in her tone. She tossed a bag into the back of Jungkook’s police SUV and went back for another. Focused. Efficient. A doctor in full fight mode.

Jungkook silently helped her load the last of the kits into his car, the weight in his chest heavier than the gear on his back.

“All units, move out!” a soldier called.

Jungkook climbed into the driver’s seat of his car, adjusting his radio, eyes focused forward. Just drive. Just do your job.

Behind him, Taehyung reached for Y/N’s hand.

“Yeobo, come,” he said softly.

Y/N hesitated for a split second. Her eyes flicked toward Jungkook’s car. He was already seated, knuckles white around the steering wheel, jaw clenched.

But she turned and followed her husband.

Jungkook didn’t look. Didn’t flinch. Just started the engine like nothing happened.

But Namjoon, sliding into the passenger seat, saw it all. He closed the door with a sigh and glanced over.

“She’s his wife, Kook.”

“I know.”

Namjoon stayed quiet for a few seconds, then tried again. “But it still hurts, doesn’t it?”

Jungkook let out a soft scoff and shook his head. “Don’t start, hyung. I don’t feel anything.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. “Really? 'Cause the guy who’s been doing push-ups every morning just to catch a glimpse of her doesn’t sound like someone who feels nothing.”

“I’m focused. That’s it.”

“Right,” Namjoon said dryly. “Focused on pretending you’re not in love with someone else’s wife while you risk your life every day.”

Jungkook didn’t reply.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” Namjoon added after a pause.

Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tightened. “I’m not lying. I’m surviving.”

Namjoon turned to the window and leaned his head back. “Fine. Survive. But don’t lose yourself doing it.”

The drive out of the city was long and brutal—fires, overturned cars, empty streets littered with signs of what used to be life.

But inside Jungkook’s car, the silence between two brothers-in-arms said more than words ever could.

[bluelavendre]

Apocalypse

JJK x Reader ft. Namjoon &???

THIS IS PURE FICTION!!

Police officer jjk x Doctor Reader ft.???

1/??

The low hum of an approaching engine disrupted the quiet morning air. A black patrol car rolled to a smooth stop in front of a corner café tucked into a sleepy town street—quaint, quiet, and still unaware of the chaos that would one day come.

The driver’s side door creaked open, and out stepped a man who turned more than a few heads on a daily basis. Officer Jeon Jungkook. Broad shoulders stretched the seams of his uniform shirt, the tattoos winding down his arms just barely hidden beneath the fabric. His dark hair was brushed back, still damp from a morning shower, and a pair of sunglasses dangled carelessly between his fingers. He slid them on as he walked toward the café, the heavy soles of his boots thudding rhythmically on the pavement.

The bell above the café door gave a cheerful chime as he stepped inside, greeted by the rich aroma of coffee beans and warm pastries. It smelled like comfort, like routine—like everything that made life feel normal.

“Good morning, Officer Jeon! The usual?” called Minho, the young barista behind the counter, already grinning as he pulled two cups from the stack.

“Make it two today, Minho,” Jungkook said with a small smile, voice low and smooth.

Minho raised a brow knowingly. “Feeding the beast in the passenger seat?”

“Unfortunately,” Jungkook chuckled, pulling a few bills from his wallet.

Within minutes, two steaming cups of coffee and a paper bag filled with breakfast burritos were packed up and ready. Jungkook gave Minho a small nod of thanks before stepping back out into the crisp morning air.

He slid into the driver’s seat and handed over the goods. His partner, Officer Kim Namjoon, immediately perked up.

“Finally,” Namjoon said, lifting the lid off his coffee cup and taking a long sip. “Jeon Jungkook is buying breakfast. This is a historic day.”

“Don’t make it weird,” Jungkook muttered, biting into his burrito.

Their patrol car sat idling quietly at the curb as they ate, eyes casually scanning the street as morning life began to bloom—pedestrians with briefcases, joggers, a dog walker or two.

Then the café door opened again, and something—or rather, someone—shifted in Jungkook’s peripheral vision.

A woman stepped out, her coat fluttering slightly in the breeze. She was on the phone, her voice soft but purposeful. A doctor, judging by the embroidered name tag barely visible on her coat pocket. Hair pulled into a clean ponytail, a stethoscope hanging from her neck. Her every move was graceful, her presence quiet yet commanding.

Jungkook’s gaze lingered longer than it should have.

Namjoon, ever the observer, turned his head and caught the expression on his partner’s face. A teasing grin curled on his lips.

“Officer Jeon,” he said in a mockingly serious tone. “You forgot your sunglasses.”

Jungkook blinked. “Aish, Kim. What are you on about now?”

“I can literally see the puppy eyes,” Namjoon smirked, wiggling his brows like a high schooler watching his friend fall in love.

“She’s my neighbor, hyung,” Jungkook said defensively, but his voice lacked bite.

“Ohh,” Namjoon said with a slow nod. “I get it now. Jeon Jungkook—town hero, proud defender of the people, protector of the innocent—just casually keeping an eye out for the neighborhood doctor. How noble.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and started the engine, trying to hide the way his ears were burning.

“She’s married,” he added after a moment of silence.

Namjoon nearly choked on his burrito. “She’s what?!”

Jungkook didn’t respond. He just kept driving.

The tires crunched over gravel as their patrol car pulled into the lot behind the station. The morning sun glinted off the rows of parked cruisers, the building standing tall in its quiet authority. Jungkook killed the engine, grabbed the paper bag, and stepped out with a sigh, his boots hitting the ground with that familiar solid thud.

Namjoon scrambled out after him, still gripping his half-finished coffee.

“Wait—wait, are you for real?” he called, jogging to catch up. “She’s married? Married? To who? When?!”

Jungkook didn’t break stride as he pushed through the glass doors of the station.

“To who?” Namjoon repeated behind him. “She? That doctor? Your neighbor? What??”

Inside, the familiar scent of fresh paperwork and old floor polish filled the air. Officers passed them, nodding greetings, typing reports, making calls. Jungkook just walked faster, trying to lose his partner in the maze of desks and hallways.

“Move on, hyung,” Jungkook muttered, finally stopping by his locker. He opened it with a clang, swapping out his jacket, his expression unreadable.

Namjoon leaned on the wall beside him, still staring like he’d just been told Santa Claus was real and cheating on Mrs. Claus.

“I mean… I just didn’t expect that. She doesn’t wear a ring,” he said more quietly this time, voice finally softening.

“She used to,” Jungkook replied, not looking up.

Namjoon frowned. “Divorced?”

“No,” Jungkook said. “Military. He’s deployed. Hasn’t been home in years. But she still waits for him.”

That shut Namjoon up for a moment.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened slightly as he pulled out his body cam, checking the battery like it suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world. “So yeah… move on, hyung.”

Namjoon didn’t respond immediately. He just watched his partner in silence, something unspoken passing between them. He saw it now—the way Jungkook watched her, not just with attraction, but with quiet longing. A kind of ache no training could fix.

And maybe... the kind of ache that would only get worse.

Night had fallen, and the once-bustling streets were now quiet, bathed in the glow of streetlights and the occasional flicker of a passing car’s headlights. Jeon Jungkook sat behind the wheel of his patrol car, parked just outside his modest home. The engine clicked softly as it cooled, the radio silent for the first time all day.

He looked over.

Her car was already there—parked in its usual spot just next to his. And there she was.

Out in her front yard, crouched down with a small dish in her hands, she fed the same group of stray cats that always seemed to show up around dusk. She was barefoot, dressed in her familiar nighttime attire: a loose white top and a pair of worn-out Stitch pajama pants that looked two sizes too big—probably her husband's. There was a quiet comfort in how soft and normal it all felt.

Jungkook took a slow breath, adjusting his cap before stepping out of the car.

As if sensing him, she looked up with a small smile. “Good evening, Officer Jeon.”

Her voice was light, teasing, and yet… there was something warm in the way she said his name. Like he belonged in this tiny sliver of her world.

Jungkook felt something flutter in his chest. Damn that voice.

He tipped his cap, the one with the embroidered police emblem on the front. “Good evening, Doctor.”

She raised a brow, her smile growing. “The formalities again, Officer?”

He chuckled as he walked toward her yard. “You called me Officer first… and that’s the second time you’ve called me Doctor Y/L/N.”

“Fine, fine,” she said, waving him off playfully. “Good evening, Jungkook-shii.”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Feeding time, huh?”

“Yep,” she said simply, scratching one of the cats behind its ears. “They’re starting to expect me now. I’m probably in trouble if I ever forget.”

Jungkook leaned against the low fence, watching the cats briefly before glancing back at her. “How was your day?”

She sighed, the weariness finally catching up to her as she sat back on her heels. “Rough. We had… a boy come into the ER today. Maybe ten years old. Violent. Ferocious. It took four of us to hold him down. We thought it was rabies, but…” Her voice trailed off. “We’re still running tests.”

The easy atmosphere shifted slightly. Jungkook’s posture straightened, the officer in him taking over. “That doesn’t sound like just rabies,” he said, voice low. “You should be careful, Doc. Some things hide behind friendly faces.”

He nodded toward the cat closest to her feet. It looked up innocently with round eyes and a twitching tail.

She glanced at the cat, then back at him with a small, amused smile. “Note taken, sir.”

They stood there for a beat, the wind brushing lightly through the trees, the rustling leaves whispering like secrets in the dark.

“I should probably go inside,” she said softly, standing and brushing grass off her pants. “Goodnight again, Jungkook-shii.”

Jungkook gave her a small nod, watching as she stepped back into her yard, the porch light casting a soft halo around her as she opened her door. She turned back once more, smiled, and disappeared inside.

Only then did Jungkook finally head toward his own front door, unlocking it slowly, his eyes flicking one last time to her porch.

Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once.

Then again.

Louder.

And then it suddenly stopped.

The soft blue of early morning clung to the neighborhood like a blanket, cool and quiet. Birds were just beginning their morning songs, and the sky had only started its slow stretch toward dawn.

Jeon Jungkook was already outside.

His front porch creaked slightly under the rhythm of his push-ups—steady, controlled, but if you watched closely, you’d see his tempo waver every now and then. Not from fatigue.

From glancing toward the house next door.

The cool air kissed his skin, dew clinging to the wooden planks beneath him. His black tank top clung to his sculpted frame, soaked slightly with early sweat. The ink along his arms was on full display in the soft dawn light—script tattoos weaving around his right forearm, elegant cursive mingling with delicate symbols, a tiger lily peeking near the inside of his elbow. A bold eye on his forearm seemed to watch the world with him.

The one that always drew the most attention was the sleeve on his right hand—"Truth" and "Rather be dead than cool" etched between sharp black lines and sacred geometry, crawling up his wrist and knuckles like shadows from a dream. There was a faint glint of the “ARMY” tattoo just below his thumb—a tribute to loyalty and memory—and near the inside of his bicep, a barely noticeable date in Roman numerals. Something personal. Something he never talked about.

He told himself this was just part of his routine. Push-ups. Mind clear. Stay strong. Protect people.

But this morning, like every morning lately, it was more than that.

He was waiting.

And right on time, the porch light flicked on next door.

She stepped outside, barefoot and blinking sleep from her eyes. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, strands falling loose as she carried a steaming mug to the porch railing. Wrapped in an oversized cardigan and those familiar Stitch pajama pants—clearly from another life—she looked as soft and out of place in this gritty world as spring snow.

Jungkook paused, holding a push-up mid-motion. His gaze softened.

She looked around at the sound of paws and claws on wood—stray cats gathering near her like a daily ritual. She poured kibble into their little bowl and murmured something gentle he couldn’t hear from this distance.

Then, she looked up.

Their eyes met.

And she smiled.

“Do you ever sleep, Jungkook-shii?” she called across the stillness, her voice cracking a little from sleep.

He stood, grabbing the towel from the porch railing and casually wiping his arms—inking catching the light. “Morning cardio. Gotta stay in shape in case someone needs rescuing.”

She lifted her cup in mock salute. “Ah, the neighborhood hero returns.”

“Always on duty, Doctor,” he replied, lips tugging into a crooked smile.

But he noticed it—the brief flicker behind her eyes. The slight downturn of her mouth before she masked it with a sip of coffee.

“Everything alright?” he asked, lowering his voice.

She hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Just… weird dreams. And the hospital called earlier. The boy from yesterday—he’s missing.”

Jungkook’s easy demeanor vanished.

“Missing?” he repeated, brows knitting.

“They had him restrained. Last night’s security footage got corrupted somehow, and when the nurses did rounds this morning, he was just… gone.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. His hand unconsciously drifted to the tattoo over his chest, hidden under fabric—a symbol of resilience he got the day after his first failed case. A quiet reminder to never let things slip through the cracks.

“Could be something,” he said carefully. “I’ll check in with dispatch. See if anything’s been flagged overnight.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. “It’s probably nothing. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”

He didn’t respond. Because he wasn’t sure it was nothing.

A strange silence lingered between them, until she spoke again.

“Well… I should get ready for work. See you later, Jungkook-shii,” she said, offering a tired smile.

He nodded, eyes lingering on her a moment longer.

“Be safe, Doctor.”

She turned, disappearing inside.

And Jungkook stood there for a while longer, the cool air biting at his inked skin, unease creeping under his ribs.

Somewhere, deep in the city, another siren wailed.

Jungkook pulled into the precinct parking lot just as the city stirred to life. The rising sun painted the sky in smudges of coral and gray, but the air felt heavier than usual—like the day knew something no one else did yet.

He stepped out of the cruiser, fingers instinctively adjusting the bulletproof vest under his jacket. The precinct doors buzzed open, and he was immediately met with Namjoon pacing near the monitor wall, brows drawn tight.

“Jungkook,” he said, his tone clipped. “We’ve got another one. This one’s bad.”

Namjoon tapped the screen, and a grainy video clip began to play. It looked like security cam footage from a small gas station somewhere in the west outskirts of Seoul. A young man—barefoot, bloodied, twitching—stumbled into frame. The clerk behind the counter started shouting. But the boy didn’t flinch. His eyes were wide, unblinking. Feral.

Then he lunged.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched as he watched the chaos erupt on-screen. Screams. Shaking camera. The boy biting—tearing—into someone’s arm before the feed cut.

Namjoon exhaled shakily. “Same symptoms. Unresponsive to speech. Aggressive. Animalistic.”

Before Jungkook could respond, the precinct door banged open.

“ATTENTION!”

Every officer in the room snapped up from their stations. The chief walked in, tall and sharp in his pressed uniform, a file in one hand and urgency in his steps.

“At ease,” the chief barked, dropping the folder onto the front desk. “Listen up. Things are escalating.”

He looked at each officer, locking eyes.

“The hospital has started reporting a growing number of bite-related injuries. Mostly erratic behavior. Some… fatal. The government’s flagged this as a potential outbreak scenario. Low-level for now, but spreading.”

Murmurs broke out across the room. Jungkook didn’t move. His mind immediately flashed to her. The way she looked this morning. The concern in her voice when she said “we barely restrained him.”

The chief continued. “As of this morning, all precincts have been ordered to begin collaboration with local hospitals. Ours has been assigned to Seoul Medical East—where the first recorded case was brought in.”

Jungkook’s heart dropped.

That was her hospital.

“You’ll work closely with doctors for intel, security, and containment if necessary,” the chief said. “This is no longer just a public disturbance issue—it’s a medical emergency. Dismissed.”

Chairs scraped back as the officers got to work, some grouping around computer terminals, others checking radios and prepping riot gear. Namjoon nudged Jungkook, concern etched across his face.

“Your doctor friend,” he said quietly, “that’s her hospital, right?”

Jungkook nodded, grabbing his gear.

“Do you think she’s okay?”

He didn’t answer.

Because he didn’t know.

The convoy of police cruisers roared down the main avenue, their sirens piercing the thick tension in the air. Flashing red and blue lights danced across the hospital's white facade, casting eerie glows on panicked faces and shattered windows.

Jungkook gripped the steering wheel tightly, jaw locked, heart pounding like a war drum.

As soon as they arrived, the scene exploded before them—nurses screaming, patients writhing on stretchers, and doctors desperately trying to sedate bodies that thrashed like wild animals.

“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon whispered beside him, stepping out of the car. “It’s worse than the footage.”

The emergency entrance was a warzone. One nurse flew backward, her shoulder slammed by a middle-aged man foaming at the mouth. Another patient bit down hard on a stretcher’s metal rail, teeth cracking.

“READY, MEN!” the chief barked, voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. His hand shot into the air, commanding immediate formation.

“All teams—gear up! Secure perimeter, and assist medical staff where necessary. We are not here to kill—we are here to contain!” the chief ordered.

He turned sharply toward Jungkook, eyes hard. “Officer Jeon—I’m putting you in charge of interior containment with your squad.”

“Yes, sir!” Jungkook responded, saluting sharply.

He spun to his men, voice loud and unwavering despite the panic around them.

“Alpha team—assist the nurses in the ER, use riot shields if needed! Beta team, lock down the west hallway and keep ferals from crossing over to ICU! No guns unless absolutely necessary—we do not shoot civilians!”

“Yes, sir!” the officers responded, immediately breaking into teams.

Jungkook's boots thundered against the tile as he rushed inside, weaving through overturned chairs and knocked-over IV stands. The hospital interior looked like a scene from a horror movie—blood smeared on walls, flickering lights, oxygen tanks rolling loose across the floor.

He scanned faces—nurses, doctors, infected—desperately searching for one in particular.

Where was she?

Then—

Through a half-open door in the east wing, he heard a familiar voice.

“No—please stay still—you're hurting yourself! Mr. Han, stop—STOP!”

Jungkook burst into the room.

There she was—struggling to restrain an elderly patient whose face had turned a sickly gray, pupils dilated, veins dark and raised under translucent skin. He snarled and snapped at her like a rabid dog, knocking over a tray of medical tools.

Without thinking, Jungkook lunged forward.

He grabbed the old man from behind, using his strength to pin him against the wall.

“Doc, MOVE!” he shouted.

She stumbled back, panting, eyes wide with panic and relief.

“Jungkook-shii—he bit two nurses,” she gasped. “I couldn’t sedate him—he broke the restraints.”

Jungkook wrestled the man to the ground, twisting his wrists into an emergency zip tie restraint. “Namjoon!” he shouted into his radio, “Get two officers to Room 203! I need backup and a gurney!”

Static crackled before Namjoon responded. “On it!”

She was still breathing hard, her hands trembling. Jungkook looked up at her, eyes full of worry.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No. I—he almost got me, but I’m okay.”

Jungkook stood, his hand briefly brushing her arm. “You shouldn’t be here alone. I’ll keep you close.”

Outside the room, more screams echoed.

Jungkook’s expression darkened.

Something terrible was unfolding here.

BANG!

The thunderous sound of a gunshot echoed through the hospital hallway, sharp and deafening. Jungkook instinctively pulled her down behind a tipped-over gurney, shielding her body with his own as the high-pitched ringing filled his ears.

“NO SHOOTING!” Jungkook roared into his radio. “We’re surrounded by civilians—HOLD YOUR FIRE!”

But his voice barely cut through the chaos.

Inside the room, Mr. Han’s head snapped violently toward the nurse beside him—eyes wide, veins throbbing beneath his skin—and without warning, he lunged. His teeth sank into her neck before anyone could stop it.

“NO!” the nurse screamed—just once—before her voice turned into gurgled, wet gasps. Blood sprayed across the floor, slick and red.

Jungkook shoved her behind him. “Stay down!” he barked.

The nurse staggered backward, clawing at the wall—but her eyes were already changing. Dilated. Glazed. Her body twitched unnaturally, jerking in spasms that looked less like pain and more like possession.

She locked eyes with Jungkook.

And then—she lunged, growling.

“Kook, MOVE!”

The door slammed open and Namjoon charged in with two officers. Without hesitation, he raised his weapon and fired.

BANG. BANG.

The nurse’s body hit the ground hard, blood pooling beneath her. Mr. Han was next, restrained but still snarling like a beast, veins pulsing like snakes under his skin.

“We had no choice, Kook,” Namjoon said breathlessly, lowering his weapon. “They’re not human anymore. They’re too strong.”

Jungkook stood frozen for a moment, heart hammering in his chest. His mind struggled to catch up—one moment it was a hospital, the next, a battlefield.

She slowly stood beside him, blood splattered on her cheek, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

“This isn’t rabies…” she whispered, voice trembling. “It’s something worse.”

Jungkook turned to Namjoon. “Get the survivors out. Lock every damn hallway. We need quarantine zones—now.”

“On it,” Namjoon said, signaling his officers.

Jungkook turned back to her, voice soft but urgent.

“You’re coming with me.”

She hesitated. “I—I can’t leave my patients—”

“There are no more patients,” Jungkook said, eyes haunted. “There are only survivors.”

Their eyes met. And in that moment, they both knew:

Something had begun.

“We only have a few survivors, sir!” an officer reported, sweat dripping down his forehead, eyes wide with panic.

Jungkook, Y/N, and Namjoon sprinted toward the remaining cluster of police officers huddled near the ER exit. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance—closer now—and the once-bustling hospital was now a battlefield of overturned stretchers, broken glass, and moaning bodies.

“We need to move,” the Chief barked. His face was pale, his uniform stained with blood. His hand gripped his side tightly, but he kept his composure. “Fall back to the station—we need an emergency meeting. The military has been contacted. Reinforcements will arrive within the hour.”

Y/N stepped forward, catching the subtle shake in the Chief’s hand, the way he was trying not to limp. Her eyes narrowed—but she said nothing, keeping the observation to herself for now.

“Sir,” she said urgently, “some infected patients ran out into the streets. If we don’t act now, this won’t stay contained. We’ll need to evacuate the city. The virus—whatever this is—it spreads too fast.”

The Chief glanced at her, sweat beading on his brow. He hesitated just for a moment—barely long enough to notice.

“We’ll discuss it at the station,” he said. “Doctor, we’ll need you there. The government wants input from the frontline—we can’t stand out here any longer. It’s not safe.”

“Come on, Y/N,” Jungkook said, gently placing a hand on her back and guiding her toward his cruiser. The tension in his jaw was tighter than ever.

She slid into the front passenger seat, her fingers trembling slightly as she fumbled with the seatbelt. Jungkook slid into the driver’s side, immediately starting the engine. Namjoon took the back seat, loading his rifle beside him with grim silence.

As they pulled out, the scene around them grew worse with every block. Seoul had begun to fall.

Fires had broken out in the distance. Cars were abandoned in the middle of intersections. People ran down sidewalks screaming, dragging children behind them. Some banged on shop doors, begging to be let in. Others… weren’t human anymore.

A man slammed into their windshield briefly, growling—his face covered in blood—before he was thrown off as Jungkook swerved.

“This is hell already,” Namjoon muttered from the back seat, gripping his weapon tightly. “How the fuck did it spread this fast?”

Y/N stared out the window, watching as a woman knelt in the street, clutching the limp body of a child. “It’s air-borne, or blood-borne—or both,” she whispered. “The incubation time is almost nonexistent.”

Jungkook’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He didn’t speak. His eyes were fixed on the road, jaw locked, scanning every corner for threats. He was no longer just an officer. He was a protector now. Not just of the city—but of her.

“I’m getting you both to safety,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

The sirens faded as they neared the station.

But even there—chaos was waiting.

The police station, once a place of routine, reports, and quiet paperwork, had transformed into a nerve center buzzing with dread. Officers ran in and out, phones rang constantly, and the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with the weight of a city crumbling outside.

Inside the briefing room, the air was tense. Everyone was on edge—some still in their bloodied uniforms, others clearly fresh from patrols. Jungkook, Y/N, and Namjoon entered, the sound of their boots echoing off the tile floor. Y/N immediately felt the shift in atmosphere—this wasn’t just a city crisis anymore. This was a national emergency.

The Chief stood at the front, pale, with dark circles under his eyes. He gave her a quick glance—one that lingered just a little too long—but said nothing. Behind him, a projection screen blinked to life.

Security footage rolled.

One clip after another.

Doctors being dragged down hallways.

Nurses screaming as feral patients lunged at them.

A young boy in restraints suddenly snapping two guards' arms with unnatural strength.

A woman coughing up blood in an alleyway before attacking her own brother.

The room fell into silence except for the faint static of the audio feed. No one moved. No one blinked.

Y/N stepped forward, folding her arms tightly as she studied the footage. Her brows furrowed as she focused on the timelines, the proximity of interactions, and the symptoms.

“…It’s not airborne,” she said quietly but firmly. All eyes turned to her.

She turned toward the group. “If it were, everyone in that hospital—every nurse, every janitor, every person in that building—would have turned already. But they didn’t. The ones who were bitten or exposed to infected blood were the ones who transformed.”

She pointed at one clip. “See that nurse? She worked with multiple infected, stayed in the same room, didn’t wear a mask—still normal. But once Mr. Han bit her... transformation within minutes.”

Jungkook watched her with quiet intensity, admiring her ability to stay composed despite everything they'd seen. Her voice was steady—clinical—but he could see the tightness in her jaw. She was holding it together… barely.

Namjoon leaned back in his chair. “So it’s bites and blood. We’ve got to train every unit to keep distance. No physical holds. If they’re infected, don’t touch ‘em.”

The Chief nodded slowly, beads of sweat forming again on his temple. “Then we initiate biohazard protocol. Everyone on patrol wears protective gear from now on. Gloves. Masks. No bare skin exposure.”

Y/N added, “You’ll also need to set up testing checkpoints. If someone gets bitten—even grazed—they need to be isolated immediately. No exceptions.”

One young officer stood up, panicked. “But… they look normal at first, don’t they? How do we know who’s safe? How do we trust each other?”

Y/N’s eyes darkened. “That’s the hardest part. You don’t.”

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Outside, a dull rumble echoed in the distance. An explosion? A collapsing building? No one knew anymore. But one thing was clear—this wasn’t going away.

Jungkook's hand clenched into a fist at his side. He glanced over at Y/N, who was already looking at him.

They were in the middle of a war zone now.

And it was only just beginning.

“Sir, the military has arrived!” a young officer shouted, bursting into the briefing room.

Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone stood at once. The gravity of the moment hung thick in the air—if the military was here, the situation was worse than they thought.

Jungkook instinctively placed a gentle hand on Y/N’s back, guiding her along with the others as they moved toward the station’s entrance. Outside, the noise of engines and boots filled the streets. Military vehicles lined the roads—jeeps, armored trucks, and medical transports—forming a protective barrier around the police station.

Uniformed soldiers jumped down from the vehicles, barking orders and moving in tactical formations. Their presence was strong, authoritative, efficient… and grim.

Y/N stood between Jungkook and the Chief. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced at the older man. He looked… off.

His posture was stiff, and he wasn’t responding to the soldiers' arrival the way the others were. His breath was uneven, his skin pale, almost bluish. A thin line of sweat trickled down his temple, but when Y/N gently reached for his wrist—what she felt made her blood run cold.

His skin was ice.

“Chief…?” she asked quietly, stepping closer. “Your pulse—it's faint—”

Suddenly, his entire body jolted. His arm shot out, knocking her backward.

“Y/N!” Jungkook yelled, immediately reaching out to catch her, but the Chief lunged at her again—this time, fully transformed. His eyes had gone bloodshot, mouth snarling, strength unnatural for a man his age.

Jungkook tackled the Chief to the side, grunting as he struggled to restrain the infected man. The Chief’s hands clawed at his vest like a mad animal, teeth gnashing only inches from Jungkook’s throat.

“Get back! Don’t let him bite!” Jungkook shouted to the officers, who all hesitated, unsure what to do.

And then—bang!

A single shot rang through the chaos.

The Chief’s body slumped over Jungkook’s, lifeless.

Y/N gasped, eyes wide as the figure holding the still-smoking rifle came into view.

Kim Taehyung.

Wearing full military gear, rifle still raised, breath steady despite the scene before him. His eyes scanned the area before landing on her. The sharpness in his expression softened instantly.

“Y/N!” he called out.

She stumbled to her feet, blood on her sleeves, breath shaky—but her eyes locked onto his, and in seconds he was sprinting toward her. He dropped his rifle, arms outstretched as he enveloped her in a tight embrace, lifting her off the ground slightly as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“God, you’re safe,” he whispered into her hair. “You’re safe…”

Jungkook stood a few feet away, still catching his breath, watching the reunion unfold before him.

His eyes lingered on the way Taehyung held her, the way she clung back.

There was a pang in his chest—deep, quiet, and buried beneath years of discipline.

Namjoon appeared beside him, his voice low. “You okay, Kook?”

Jungkook gave a short nod, glancing down at the blood on his hands. “Yeah… I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t.

Not really.

Because even in the middle of a crumbling world, where the dead walked and the cities burned… she still belonged to someone else.

As the chaos began to settle, the Chief’s body was quickly covered, soldiers regrouped, and the area was secured. Orders echoed around them, but for a moment, Jungkook just stood still, chest rising and falling heavily, the echo of the gunshot still ringing in his ears.

Y/N gently pulled away from Taehyung, giving him a soft nod before turning toward Jungkook.

“Jungkook,” she said, moving quickly to his side. Her voice was sharp now—not formal, not clinical, but full of urgency. “Are you hurt? Did he… did he bite you?”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook replied, but she didn’t take his word for it.

She reached for his arm, her fingers brushing over the fabric of his uniform, eyes scanning him thoroughly.

“Take this off,” she ordered, tugging at his outer jacket. Jungkook blinked at her but obeyed, slipping the jacket off while Namjoon subtly stepped away to give them privacy.

Y/N’s eyes darted across his skin—his neck, his arms, the exposed skin near the collar of his shirt. Her fingers grazed along his forearm, checking for scratches or bites.

“Y/N,” he said softly, “I told you, I’m okay.”

“I need to be sure,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. Her brows were drawn tightly together, worry pulling at the corners of her mouth.

She pushed up his sleeve, revealing a stretch of tattooed skin—black ink curling along his veins, stories and symbols written in lines and shapes. For a second, her fingers paused, tracing one of them unconsciously.

Jungkook watched her. Felt the heat of her touch. The brush of her fingertips against his skin—gentle, like she was trying not to break him.

“You’re really not hurt?” she asked again, her voice quieter this time.

He shook his head. “I promise.”

Finally, she let out a breath. Her shoulders sank a little, and she nodded, her fingers slowly pulling his sleeve back down.

“Good,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do if…”

She stopped herself, biting her lip before finishing that thought. Instead, she looked away, clearing her throat. “Sorry. Doctor instinct. I just… needed to be sure.”

Jungkook gave a soft chuckle. “No, I get it. It’s okay.”

Their eyes met—just for a second longer than necessary.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” he said, his voice a little lower.

Y/N managed a small smile. “Always.”

Behind them, Taehyung called her name. She turned her head, nodding toward him.

But before she walked away, her hand brushed against Jungkook’s one more time—a quiet touch. One she probably didn’t even realize she did.

But he did.

And he felt it all the way to his heart.

The command center buzzed with coordinated movement—soldiers barking orders, officers gathering gear, med kits being loaded into vehicles. The urgency thickened in the air like smoke, everyone working like clockwork in the middle of chaos.

“We need to have a basecamp,” Taehyung said firmly, standing at the center of it all, his military uniform crisp and imposing. “A place where we can stay safe and rescue survivors. Quarantine zones, medical areas, fortified rooms for the uninfected.”

“The best place for that is outside of the city,” Jungkook chimed in, his voice serious, brows furrowed. “Wide terrain. Easier to fortify, fewer structures that can block our view. We’ll see them coming before they get close.”

Taehyung nodded. “Then that’s the plan. Initiate clearing operations outside the city. I want a double barricade. Spread word to survivors.”

“How will we know they’re not infected?” Namjoon asked.

A moment of silence followed. Everyone exchanged looks, heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

“The temperature,” Y/N said, stepping forward, arms full of medical kits and supplies. “Eye color. Dilated pupils, abnormal muscle tension. We check for bite wounds. Anyone suspicious—we isolate.”

There was no room for doubt in her tone. She tossed a bag into the back of Jungkook’s police SUV and went back for another. Focused. Efficient. A doctor in full fight mode.

Jungkook silently helped her load the last of the kits into his car, the weight in his chest heavier than the gear on his back.

“All units, move out!” a soldier called.

Jungkook climbed into the driver’s seat of his car, adjusting his radio, eyes focused forward. Just drive. Just do your job.

Behind him, Taehyung reached for Y/N’s hand.

“Yeobo, come,” he said softly.

Y/N hesitated for a split second. Her eyes flicked toward Jungkook’s car. He was already seated, knuckles white around the steering wheel, jaw clenched.

But she turned and followed her husband.

Jungkook didn’t look. Didn’t flinch. Just started the engine like nothing happened.

But Namjoon, sliding into the passenger seat, saw it all. He closed the door with a sigh and glanced over.

“She’s his wife, Kook.”

“I know.”

Namjoon stayed quiet for a few seconds, then tried again. “But it still hurts, doesn’t it?”

Jungkook let out a soft scoff and shook his head. “Don’t start, hyung. I don’t feel anything.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. “Really? 'Cause the guy who’s been doing push-ups every morning just to catch a glimpse of her doesn’t sound like someone who feels nothing.”

“I’m focused. That’s it.”

“Right,” Namjoon said dryly. “Focused on pretending you’re not in love with someone else’s wife while you risk your life every day.”

Jungkook didn’t reply.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” Namjoon added after a pause.

Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tightened. “I’m not lying. I’m surviving.”

Namjoon turned to the window and leaned his head back. “Fine. Survive. But don’t lose yourself doing it.”

The drive out of the city was long and brutal—fires, overturned cars, empty streets littered with signs of what used to be life.

But inside Jungkook’s car, the silence between two brothers-in-arms said more than words ever could.

[bluelavendre]

Apocalypse

THIS IS PURE FICTION!!

Police officer jjk x Doctor Reader ft. Namjoon & ?

1/??

The low hum of an approaching engine disrupted the quiet morning air. A black patrol car rolled to a smooth stop in front of a corner café tucked into a sleepy town street—quaint, quiet, and still unaware of the chaos that would one day come.

The driver’s side door creaked open, and out stepped a man who turned more than a few heads on a daily basis. Officer Jeon Jungkook. Broad shoulders stretched the seams of his uniform shirt, the tattoos winding down his arms just barely hidden beneath the fabric. His dark hair was brushed back, still damp from a morning shower, and a pair of sunglasses dangled carelessly between his fingers. He slid them on as he walked toward the café, the heavy soles of his boots thudding rhythmically on the pavement.

The bell above the café door gave a cheerful chime as he stepped inside, greeted by the rich aroma of coffee beans and warm pastries. It smelled like comfort, like routine—like everything that made life feel normal.

“Good morning, Officer Jeon! The usual?” called Minho, the young barista behind the counter, already grinning as he pulled two cups from the stack.

“Make it two today, Minho,” Jungkook said with a small smile, voice low and smooth.

Minho raised a brow knowingly. “Feeding the beast in the passenger seat?”

“Unfortunately,” Jungkook chuckled, pulling a few bills from his wallet.

Within minutes, two steaming cups of coffee and a paper bag filled with breakfast burritos were packed up and ready. Jungkook gave Minho a small nod of thanks before stepping back out into the crisp morning air.

He slid into the driver’s seat and handed over the goods. His partner, Officer Kim Namjoon, immediately perked up.

“Finally,” Namjoon said, lifting the lid off his coffee cup and taking a long sip. “Jeon Jungkook is buying breakfast. This is a historic day.”

“Don’t make it weird,” Jungkook muttered, biting into his burrito.

Their patrol car sat idling quietly at the curb as they ate, eyes casually scanning the street as morning life began to bloom—pedestrians with briefcases, joggers, a dog walker or two.

Then the café door opened again, and something—or rather, someone—shifted in Jungkook’s peripheral vision.

A woman stepped out, her coat fluttering slightly in the breeze. She was on the phone, her voice soft but purposeful. A doctor, judging by the embroidered name tag barely visible on her coat pocket. Hair pulled into a clean ponytail, a stethoscope hanging from her neck. Her every move was graceful, her presence quiet yet commanding.

Jungkook’s gaze lingered longer than it should have.

Namjoon, ever the observer, turned his head and caught the expression on his partner’s face. A teasing grin curled on his lips.

“Officer Jeon,” he said in a mockingly serious tone. “You forgot your sunglasses.”

Jungkook blinked. “Aish, Kim. What are you on about now?”

“I can literally see the puppy eyes,” Namjoon smirked, wiggling his brows like a high schooler watching his friend fall in love.

“She’s my neighbor, hyung,” Jungkook said defensively, but his voice lacked bite.

“Ohh,” Namjoon said with a slow nod. “I get it now. Jeon Jungkook—town hero, proud defender of the people, protector of the innocent—just casually keeping an eye out for the neighborhood doctor. How noble.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes and started the engine, trying to hide the way his ears were burning.

“She’s married,” he added after a moment of silence.

Namjoon nearly choked on his burrito. “She’s what?!”

Jungkook didn’t respond. He just kept driving.

The tires crunched over gravel as their patrol car pulled into the lot behind the station. The morning sun glinted off the rows of parked cruisers, the building standing tall in its quiet authority. Jungkook killed the engine, grabbed the paper bag, and stepped out with a sigh, his boots hitting the ground with that familiar solid thud.

Namjoon scrambled out after him, still gripping his half-finished coffee.

“Wait—wait, are you for real?” he called, jogging to catch up. “She’s married? Married? To who? When?!”

Jungkook didn’t break stride as he pushed through the glass doors of the station.

“To who?” Namjoon repeated behind him. “She? That doctor? Your neighbor? What??”

Inside, the familiar scent of fresh paperwork and old floor polish filled the air. Officers passed them, nodding greetings, typing reports, making calls. Jungkook just walked faster, trying to lose his partner in the maze of desks and hallways.

“Move on, hyung,” Jungkook muttered, finally stopping by his locker. He opened it with a clang, swapping out his jacket, his expression unreadable.

Namjoon leaned on the wall beside him, still staring like he’d just been told Santa Claus was real and cheating on Mrs. Claus.

“I mean… I just didn’t expect that. She doesn’t wear a ring,” he said more quietly this time, voice finally softening.

“She used to,” Jungkook replied, not looking up.

Namjoon frowned. “Divorced?”

“No,” Jungkook said. “Military. He’s deployed. Hasn’t been home in years. But she still waits for him.”

That shut Namjoon up for a moment.

Jungkook’s jaw tightened slightly as he pulled out his body cam, checking the battery like it suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world. “So yeah… move on, hyung.”

Namjoon didn’t respond immediately. He just watched his partner in silence, something unspoken passing between them. He saw it now—the way Jungkook watched her, not just with attraction, but with quiet longing. A kind of ache no training could fix.

And maybe... the kind of ache that would only get worse.

Night had fallen, and the once-bustling streets were now quiet, bathed in the glow of streetlights and the occasional flicker of a passing car’s headlights. Jeon Jungkook sat behind the wheel of his patrol car, parked just outside his modest home. The engine clicked softly as it cooled, the radio silent for the first time all day.

He looked over.

Her car was already there—parked in its usual spot just next to his. And there she was.

Out in her front yard, crouched down with a small dish in her hands, she fed the same group of stray cats that always seemed to show up around dusk. She was barefoot, dressed in her familiar nighttime attire: a loose white top and a pair of worn-out Stitch pajama pants that looked two sizes too big—probably her husband's. There was a quiet comfort in how soft and normal it all felt.

Jungkook took a slow breath, adjusting his cap before stepping out of the car.

As if sensing him, she looked up with a small smile. “Good evening, Officer Jeon.”

Her voice was light, teasing, and yet… there was something warm in the way she said his name. Like he belonged in this tiny sliver of her world.

Jungkook felt something flutter in his chest. Damn that voice.

He tipped his cap, the one with the embroidered police emblem on the front. “Good evening, Doctor.”

She raised a brow, her smile growing. “The formalities again, Officer?”

He chuckled as he walked toward her yard. “You called me Officer first… and that’s the second time you’ve called me Doctor Y/L/N.”

“Fine, fine,” she said, waving him off playfully. “Good evening, Jungkook-shii.”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Feeding time, huh?”

“Yep,” she said simply, scratching one of the cats behind its ears. “They’re starting to expect me now. I’m probably in trouble if I ever forget.”

Jungkook leaned against the low fence, watching the cats briefly before glancing back at her. “How was your day?”

She sighed, the weariness finally catching up to her as she sat back on her heels. “Rough. We had… a boy come into the ER today. Maybe ten years old. Violent. Ferocious. It took four of us to hold him down. We thought it was rabies, but…” Her voice trailed off. “We’re still running tests.”

The easy atmosphere shifted slightly. Jungkook’s posture straightened, the officer in him taking over. “That doesn’t sound like just rabies,” he said, voice low. “You should be careful, Doc. Some things hide behind friendly faces.”

He nodded toward the cat closest to her feet. It looked up innocently with round eyes and a twitching tail.

She glanced at the cat, then back at him with a small, amused smile. “Note taken, sir.”

They stood there for a beat, the wind brushing lightly through the trees, the rustling leaves whispering like secrets in the dark.

“I should probably go inside,” she said softly, standing and brushing grass off her pants. “Goodnight again, Jungkook-shii.”

Jungkook gave her a small nod, watching as she stepped back into her yard, the porch light casting a soft halo around her as she opened her door. She turned back once more, smiled, and disappeared inside.

Only then did Jungkook finally head toward his own front door, unlocking it slowly, his eyes flicking one last time to her porch.

Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once.

Then again.

Louder.

And then it suddenly stopped.

The soft blue of early morning clung to the neighborhood like a blanket, cool and quiet. Birds were just beginning their morning songs, and the sky had only started its slow stretch toward dawn.

Jeon Jungkook was already outside.

His front porch creaked slightly under the rhythm of his push-ups—steady, controlled, but if you watched closely, you’d see his tempo waver every now and then. Not from fatigue.

From glancing toward the house next door.

The cool air kissed his skin, dew clinging to the wooden planks beneath him. His black tank top clung to his sculpted frame, soaked slightly with early sweat. The ink along his arms was on full display in the soft dawn light—script tattoos weaving around his right forearm, elegant cursive mingling with delicate symbols, a tiger lily peeking near the inside of his elbow. A bold eye on his forearm seemed to watch the world with him.

The one that always drew the most attention was the sleeve on his right hand—"Truth" and "Rather be dead than cool" etched between sharp black lines and sacred geometry, crawling up his wrist and knuckles like shadows from a dream. There was a faint glint of the “ARMY” tattoo just below his thumb—a tribute to loyalty and memory—and near the inside of his bicep, a barely noticeable date in Roman numerals. Something personal. Something he never talked about.

He told himself this was just part of his routine. Push-ups. Mind clear. Stay strong. Protect people.

But this morning, like every morning lately, it was more than that.

He was waiting.

And right on time, the porch light flicked on next door.

She stepped outside, barefoot and blinking sleep from her eyes. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, strands falling loose as she carried a steaming mug to the porch railing. Wrapped in an oversized cardigan and those familiar Stitch pajama pants—clearly from another life—she looked as soft and out of place in this gritty world as spring snow.

Jungkook paused, holding a push-up mid-motion. His gaze softened.

She looked around at the sound of paws and claws on wood—stray cats gathering near her like a daily ritual. She poured kibble into their little bowl and murmured something gentle he couldn’t hear from this distance.

Then, she looked up.

Their eyes met.

And she smiled.

“Do you ever sleep, Jungkook-shii?” she called across the stillness, her voice cracking a little from sleep.

He stood, grabbing the towel from the porch railing and casually wiping his arms—inking catching the light. “Morning cardio. Gotta stay in shape in case someone needs rescuing.”

She lifted her cup in mock salute. “Ah, the neighborhood hero returns.”

“Always on duty, Doctor,” he replied, lips tugging into a crooked smile.

But he noticed it—the brief flicker behind her eyes. The slight downturn of her mouth before she masked it with a sip of coffee.

“Everything alright?” he asked, lowering his voice.

She hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Just… weird dreams. And the hospital called earlier. The boy from yesterday—he’s missing.”

Jungkook’s easy demeanor vanished.

“Missing?” he repeated, brows knitting.

“They had him restrained. Last night’s security footage got corrupted somehow, and when the nurses did rounds this morning, he was just… gone.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. His hand unconsciously drifted to the tattoo over his chest, hidden under fabric—a symbol of resilience he got the day after his first failed case. A quiet reminder to never let things slip through the cracks.

“Could be something,” he said carefully. “I’ll check in with dispatch. See if anything’s been flagged overnight.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. “It’s probably nothing. Maybe I’m just being paranoid.”

He didn’t respond. Because he wasn’t sure it was nothing.

A strange silence lingered between them, until she spoke again.

“Well… I should get ready for work. See you later, Jungkook-shii,” she said, offering a tired smile.

He nodded, eyes lingering on her a moment longer.

“Be safe, Doctor.”

She turned, disappearing inside.

And Jungkook stood there for a while longer, the cool air biting at his inked skin, unease creeping under his ribs.

Somewhere, deep in the city, another siren wailed.

Jungkook pulled into the precinct parking lot just as the city stirred to life. The rising sun painted the sky in smudges of coral and gray, but the air felt heavier than usual—like the day knew something no one else did yet.

He stepped out of the cruiser, fingers instinctively adjusting the bulletproof vest under his jacket. The precinct doors buzzed open, and he was immediately met with Namjoon pacing near the monitor wall, brows drawn tight.

“Jungkook,” he said, his tone clipped. “We’ve got another one. This one’s bad.”

Namjoon tapped the screen, and a grainy video clip began to play. It looked like security cam footage from a small gas station somewhere in the west outskirts of Seoul. A young man—barefoot, bloodied, twitching—stumbled into frame. The clerk behind the counter started shouting. But the boy didn’t flinch. His eyes were wide, unblinking. Feral.

Then he lunged.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched as he watched the chaos erupt on-screen. Screams. Shaking camera. The boy biting—tearing—into someone’s arm before the feed cut.

Namjoon exhaled shakily. “Same symptoms. Unresponsive to speech. Aggressive. Animalistic.”

Before Jungkook could respond, the precinct door banged open.

“ATTENTION!”

Every officer in the room snapped up from their stations. The chief walked in, tall and sharp in his pressed uniform, a file in one hand and urgency in his steps.

“At ease,” the chief barked, dropping the folder onto the front desk. “Listen up. Things are escalating.”

He looked at each officer, locking eyes.

“The hospital has started reporting a growing number of bite-related injuries. Mostly erratic behavior. Some… fatal. The government’s flagged this as a potential outbreak scenario. Low-level for now, but spreading.”

Murmurs broke out across the room. Jungkook didn’t move. His mind immediately flashed to her. The way she looked this morning. The concern in her voice when she said “we barely restrained him.”

The chief continued. “As of this morning, all precincts have been ordered to begin collaboration with local hospitals. Ours has been assigned to Seoul Medical East—where the first recorded case was brought in.”

Jungkook’s heart dropped.

That was her hospital.

“You’ll work closely with doctors for intel, security, and containment if necessary,” the chief said. “This is no longer just a public disturbance issue—it’s a medical emergency. Dismissed.”

Chairs scraped back as the officers got to work, some grouping around computer terminals, others checking radios and prepping riot gear. Namjoon nudged Jungkook, concern etched across his face.

“Your doctor friend,” he said quietly, “that’s her hospital, right?”

Jungkook nodded, grabbing his gear.

“Do you think she’s okay?”

He didn’t answer.

Because he didn’t know.

The convoy of police cruisers roared down the main avenue, their sirens piercing the thick tension in the air. Flashing red and blue lights danced across the hospital's white facade, casting eerie glows on panicked faces and shattered windows.

Jungkook gripped the steering wheel tightly, jaw locked, heart pounding like a war drum.

As soon as they arrived, the scene exploded before them—nurses screaming, patients writhing on stretchers, and doctors desperately trying to sedate bodies that thrashed like wild animals.

“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon whispered beside him, stepping out of the car. “It’s worse than the footage.”

The emergency entrance was a warzone. One nurse flew backward, her shoulder slammed by a middle-aged man foaming at the mouth. Another patient bit down hard on a stretcher’s metal rail, teeth cracking.

“READY, MEN!” the chief barked, voice cutting through the chaos like a blade. His hand shot into the air, commanding immediate formation.

“All teams—gear up! Secure perimeter, and assist medical staff where necessary. We are not here to kill—we are here to contain!” the chief ordered.

He turned sharply toward Jungkook, eyes hard. “Officer Jeon—I’m putting you in charge of interior containment with your squad.”

“Yes, sir!” Jungkook responded, saluting sharply.

He spun to his men, voice loud and unwavering despite the panic around them.

“Alpha team—assist the nurses in the ER, use riot shields if needed! Beta team, lock down the west hallway and keep ferals from crossing over to ICU! No guns unless absolutely necessary—we do not shoot civilians!”

“Yes, sir!” the officers responded, immediately breaking into teams.

Jungkook's boots thundered against the tile as he rushed inside, weaving through overturned chairs and knocked-over IV stands. The hospital interior looked like a scene from a horror movie—blood smeared on walls, flickering lights, oxygen tanks rolling loose across the floor.

He scanned faces—nurses, doctors, infected—desperately searching for one in particular.

Where was she?

Then—

Through a half-open door in the east wing, he heard a familiar voice.

“No—please stay still—you're hurting yourself! Mr. Han, stop—STOP!”

Jungkook burst into the room.

There she was—struggling to restrain an elderly patient whose face had turned a sickly gray, pupils dilated, veins dark and raised under translucent skin. He snarled and snapped at her like a rabid dog, knocking over a tray of medical tools.

Without thinking, Jungkook lunged forward.

He grabbed the old man from behind, using his strength to pin him against the wall.

“Doc, MOVE!” he shouted.

She stumbled back, panting, eyes wide with panic and relief.

“Jungkook-shii—he bit two nurses,” she gasped. “I couldn’t sedate him—he broke the restraints.”

Jungkook wrestled the man to the ground, twisting his wrists into an emergency zip tie restraint. “Namjoon!” he shouted into his radio, “Get two officers to Room 203! I need backup and a gurney!”

Static crackled before Namjoon responded. “On it!”

She was still breathing hard, her hands trembling. Jungkook looked up at her, eyes full of worry.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “No. I—he almost got me, but I’m okay.”

Jungkook stood, his hand briefly brushing her arm. “You shouldn’t be here alone. I’ll keep you close.”

Outside the room, more screams echoed.

Jungkook’s expression darkened.

Something terrible was unfolding here.

BANG!

The thunderous sound of a gunshot echoed through the hospital hallway, sharp and deafening. Jungkook instinctively pulled her down behind a tipped-over gurney, shielding her body with his own as the high-pitched ringing filled his ears.

“NO SHOOTING!” Jungkook roared into his radio. “We’re surrounded by civilians—HOLD YOUR FIRE!”

But his voice barely cut through the chaos.

Inside the room, Mr. Han’s head snapped violently toward the nurse beside him—eyes wide, veins throbbing beneath his skin—and without warning, he lunged. His teeth sank into her neck before anyone could stop it.

“NO!” the nurse screamed—just once—before her voice turned into gurgled, wet gasps. Blood sprayed across the floor, slick and red.

Jungkook shoved her behind him. “Stay down!” he barked.

The nurse staggered backward, clawing at the wall—but her eyes were already changing. Dilated. Glazed. Her body twitched unnaturally, jerking in spasms that looked less like pain and more like possession.

She locked eyes with Jungkook.

And then—she lunged, growling.

“Kook, MOVE!”

The door slammed open and Namjoon charged in with two officers. Without hesitation, he raised his weapon and fired.

BANG. BANG.

The nurse’s body hit the ground hard, blood pooling beneath her. Mr. Han was next, restrained but still snarling like a beast, veins pulsing like snakes under his skin.

“We had no choice, Kook,” Namjoon said breathlessly, lowering his weapon. “They’re not human anymore. They’re too strong.”

Jungkook stood frozen for a moment, heart hammering in his chest. His mind struggled to catch up—one moment it was a hospital, the next, a battlefield.

She slowly stood beside him, blood splattered on her cheek, her hands shaking uncontrollably.

“This isn’t rabies…” she whispered, voice trembling. “It’s something worse.”

Jungkook turned to Namjoon. “Get the survivors out. Lock every damn hallway. We need quarantine zones—now.”

“On it,” Namjoon said, signaling his officers.

Jungkook turned back to her, voice soft but urgent.

“You’re coming with me.”

She hesitated. “I—I can’t leave my patients—”

“There are no more patients,” Jungkook said, eyes haunted. “There are only survivors.”

Their eyes met. And in that moment, they both knew:

Something had begun.

“We only have a few survivors, sir!” an officer reported, sweat dripping down his forehead, eyes wide with panic.

Jungkook, Y/N, and Namjoon sprinted toward the remaining cluster of police officers huddled near the ER exit. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance—closer now—and the once-bustling hospital was now a battlefield of overturned stretchers, broken glass, and moaning bodies.

“We need to move,” the Chief barked. His face was pale, his uniform stained with blood. His hand gripped his side tightly, but he kept his composure. “Fall back to the station—we need an emergency meeting. The military has been contacted. Reinforcements will arrive within the hour.”

Y/N stepped forward, catching the subtle shake in the Chief’s hand, the way he was trying not to limp. Her eyes narrowed—but she said nothing, keeping the observation to herself for now.

“Sir,” she said urgently, “some infected patients ran out into the streets. If we don’t act now, this won’t stay contained. We’ll need to evacuate the city. The virus—whatever this is—it spreads too fast.”

The Chief glanced at her, sweat beading on his brow. He hesitated just for a moment—barely long enough to notice.

“We’ll discuss it at the station,” he said. “Doctor, we’ll need you there. The government wants input from the frontline—we can’t stand out here any longer. It’s not safe.”

“Come on, Y/N,” Jungkook said, gently placing a hand on her back and guiding her toward his cruiser. The tension in his jaw was tighter than ever.

She slid into the front passenger seat, her fingers trembling slightly as she fumbled with the seatbelt. Jungkook slid into the driver’s side, immediately starting the engine. Namjoon took the back seat, loading his rifle beside him with grim silence.

As they pulled out, the scene around them grew worse with every block. Seoul had begun to fall.

Fires had broken out in the distance. Cars were abandoned in the middle of intersections. People ran down sidewalks screaming, dragging children behind them. Some banged on shop doors, begging to be let in. Others… weren’t human anymore.

A man slammed into their windshield briefly, growling—his face covered in blood—before he was thrown off as Jungkook swerved.

“This is hell already,” Namjoon muttered from the back seat, gripping his weapon tightly. “How the fuck did it spread this fast?”

Y/N stared out the window, watching as a woman knelt in the street, clutching the limp body of a child. “It’s air-borne, or blood-borne—or both,” she whispered. “The incubation time is almost nonexistent.”

Jungkook’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel. He didn’t speak. His eyes were fixed on the road, jaw locked, scanning every corner for threats. He was no longer just an officer. He was a protector now. Not just of the city—but of her.

“I’m getting you both to safety,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

The sirens faded as they neared the station.

But even there—chaos was waiting.

The police station, once a place of routine, reports, and quiet paperwork, had transformed into a nerve center buzzing with dread. Officers ran in and out, phones rang constantly, and the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with the weight of a city crumbling outside.

Inside the briefing room, the air was tense. Everyone was on edge—some still in their bloodied uniforms, others clearly fresh from patrols. Jungkook, Y/N, and Namjoon entered, the sound of their boots echoing off the tile floor. Y/N immediately felt the shift in atmosphere—this wasn’t just a city crisis anymore. This was a national emergency.

The Chief stood at the front, pale, with dark circles under his eyes. He gave her a quick glance—one that lingered just a little too long—but said nothing. Behind him, a projection screen blinked to life.

Security footage rolled.

One clip after another.

Doctors being dragged down hallways.

Nurses screaming as feral patients lunged at them.

A young boy in restraints suddenly snapping two guards' arms with unnatural strength.

A woman coughing up blood in an alleyway before attacking her own brother.

The room fell into silence except for the faint static of the audio feed. No one moved. No one blinked.

Y/N stepped forward, folding her arms tightly as she studied the footage. Her brows furrowed as she focused on the timelines, the proximity of interactions, and the symptoms.

“…It’s not airborne,” she said quietly but firmly. All eyes turned to her.

She turned toward the group. “If it were, everyone in that hospital—every nurse, every janitor, every person in that building—would have turned already. But they didn’t. The ones who were bitten or exposed to infected blood were the ones who transformed.”

She pointed at one clip. “See that nurse? She worked with multiple infected, stayed in the same room, didn’t wear a mask—still normal. But once Mr. Han bit her... transformation within minutes.”

Jungkook watched her with quiet intensity, admiring her ability to stay composed despite everything they'd seen. Her voice was steady—clinical—but he could see the tightness in her jaw. She was holding it together… barely.

Namjoon leaned back in his chair. “So it’s bites and blood. We’ve got to train every unit to keep distance. No physical holds. If they’re infected, don’t touch ‘em.”

The Chief nodded slowly, beads of sweat forming again on his temple. “Then we initiate biohazard protocol. Everyone on patrol wears protective gear from now on. Gloves. Masks. No bare skin exposure.”

Y/N added, “You’ll also need to set up testing checkpoints. If someone gets bitten—even grazed—they need to be isolated immediately. No exceptions.”

One young officer stood up, panicked. “But… they look normal at first, don’t they? How do we know who’s safe? How do we trust each other?”

Y/N’s eyes darkened. “That’s the hardest part. You don’t.”

A heavy silence settled over the room.

Outside, a dull rumble echoed in the distance. An explosion? A collapsing building? No one knew anymore. But one thing was clear—this wasn’t going away.

Jungkook's hand clenched into a fist at his side. He glanced over at Y/N, who was already looking at him.

They were in the middle of a war zone now.

And it was only just beginning.

“Sir, the military has arrived!” a young officer shouted, bursting into the briefing room.

Chairs scraped against the floor as everyone stood at once. The gravity of the moment hung thick in the air—if the military was here, the situation was worse than they thought.

Jungkook instinctively placed a gentle hand on Y/N’s back, guiding her along with the others as they moved toward the station’s entrance. Outside, the noise of engines and boots filled the streets. Military vehicles lined the roads—jeeps, armored trucks, and medical transports—forming a protective barrier around the police station.

Uniformed soldiers jumped down from the vehicles, barking orders and moving in tactical formations. Their presence was strong, authoritative, efficient… and grim.

Y/N stood between Jungkook and the Chief. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced at the older man. He looked… off.

His posture was stiff, and he wasn’t responding to the soldiers' arrival the way the others were. His breath was uneven, his skin pale, almost bluish. A thin line of sweat trickled down his temple, but when Y/N gently reached for his wrist—what she felt made her blood run cold.

His skin was ice.

“Chief…?” she asked quietly, stepping closer. “Your pulse—it's faint—”

Suddenly, his entire body jolted. His arm shot out, knocking her backward.

“Y/N!” Jungkook yelled, immediately reaching out to catch her, but the Chief lunged at her again—this time, fully transformed. His eyes had gone bloodshot, mouth snarling, strength unnatural for a man his age.

Jungkook tackled the Chief to the side, grunting as he struggled to restrain the infected man. The Chief’s hands clawed at his vest like a mad animal, teeth gnashing only inches from Jungkook’s throat.

“Get back! Don’t let him bite!” Jungkook shouted to the officers, who all hesitated, unsure what to do.

And then—bang!

A single shot rang through the chaos.

The Chief’s body slumped over Jungkook’s, lifeless.

Y/N gasped, eyes wide as the figure holding the still-smoking rifle came into view.

Kim Taehyung.

Wearing full military gear, rifle still raised, breath steady despite the scene before him. His eyes scanned the area before landing on her. The sharpness in his expression softened instantly.

“Y/N!” he called out.

She stumbled to her feet, blood on her sleeves, breath shaky—but her eyes locked onto his, and in seconds he was sprinting toward her. He dropped his rifle, arms outstretched as he enveloped her in a tight embrace, lifting her off the ground slightly as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“God, you’re safe,” he whispered into her hair. “You’re safe…”

Jungkook stood a few feet away, still catching his breath, watching the reunion unfold before him.

His eyes lingered on the way Taehyung held her, the way she clung back.

There was a pang in his chest—deep, quiet, and buried beneath years of discipline.

Namjoon appeared beside him, his voice low. “You okay, Kook?”

Jungkook gave a short nod, glancing down at the blood on his hands. “Yeah… I’m fine.”

But he wasn’t.

Not really.

Because even in the middle of a crumbling world, where the dead walked and the cities burned… she still belonged to someone else.

As the chaos began to settle, the Chief’s body was quickly covered, soldiers regrouped, and the area was secured. Orders echoed around them, but for a moment, Jungkook just stood still, chest rising and falling heavily, the echo of the gunshot still ringing in his ears.

Y/N gently pulled away from Taehyung, giving him a soft nod before turning toward Jungkook.

“Jungkook,” she said, moving quickly to his side. Her voice was sharp now—not formal, not clinical, but full of urgency. “Are you hurt? Did he… did he bite you?”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook replied, but she didn’t take his word for it.

She reached for his arm, her fingers brushing over the fabric of his uniform, eyes scanning him thoroughly.

“Take this off,” she ordered, tugging at his outer jacket. Jungkook blinked at her but obeyed, slipping the jacket off while Namjoon subtly stepped away to give them privacy.

Y/N’s eyes darted across his skin—his neck, his arms, the exposed skin near the collar of his shirt. Her fingers grazed along his forearm, checking for scratches or bites.

“Y/N,” he said softly, “I told you, I’m okay.”

“I need to be sure,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. Her brows were drawn tightly together, worry pulling at the corners of her mouth.

She pushed up his sleeve, revealing a stretch of tattooed skin—black ink curling along his veins, stories and symbols written in lines and shapes. For a second, her fingers paused, tracing one of them unconsciously.

Jungkook watched her. Felt the heat of her touch. The brush of her fingertips against his skin—gentle, like she was trying not to break him.

“You’re really not hurt?” she asked again, her voice quieter this time.

He shook his head. “I promise.”

Finally, she let out a breath. Her shoulders sank a little, and she nodded, her fingers slowly pulling his sleeve back down.

“Good,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do if…”

She stopped herself, biting her lip before finishing that thought. Instead, she looked away, clearing her throat. “Sorry. Doctor instinct. I just… needed to be sure.”

Jungkook gave a soft chuckle. “No, I get it. It’s okay.”

Their eyes met—just for a second longer than necessary.

“Thanks for looking out for me,” he said, his voice a little lower.

Y/N managed a small smile. “Always.”

Behind them, Taehyung called her name. She turned her head, nodding toward him.

But before she walked away, her hand brushed against Jungkook’s one more time—a quiet touch. One she probably didn’t even realize she did.

But he did.

And he felt it all the way to his heart.

The command center buzzed with coordinated movement—soldiers barking orders, officers gathering gear, med kits being loaded into vehicles. The urgency thickened in the air like smoke, everyone working like clockwork in the middle of chaos.

“We need to have a basecamp,” Taehyung said firmly, standing at the center of it all, his military uniform crisp and imposing. “A place where we can stay safe and rescue survivors. Quarantine zones, medical areas, fortified rooms for the uninfected.”

“The best place for that is outside of the city,” Jungkook chimed in, his voice serious, brows furrowed. “Wide terrain. Easier to fortify, fewer structures that can block our view. We’ll see them coming before they get close.”

Taehyung nodded. “Then that’s the plan. Initiate clearing operations outside the city. I want a double barricade. Spread word to survivors.”

“How will we know they’re not infected?” Namjoon asked.

A moment of silence followed. Everyone exchanged looks, heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

“The temperature,” Y/N said, stepping forward, arms full of medical kits and supplies. “Eye color. Dilated pupils, abnormal muscle tension. We check for bite wounds. Anyone suspicious—we isolate.”

There was no room for doubt in her tone. She tossed a bag into the back of Jungkook’s police SUV and went back for another. Focused. Efficient. A doctor in full fight mode.

Jungkook silently helped her load the last of the kits into his car, the weight in his chest heavier than the gear on his back.

“All units, move out!” a soldier called.

Jungkook climbed into the driver’s seat of his car, adjusting his radio, eyes focused forward. Just drive. Just do your job.

Behind him, Taehyung reached for Y/N’s hand.

“Yeobo, come,” he said softly.

Y/N hesitated for a split second. Her eyes flicked toward Jungkook’s car. He was already seated, knuckles white around the steering wheel, jaw clenched.

But she turned and followed her husband.

Jungkook didn’t look. Didn’t flinch. Just started the engine like nothing happened.

But Namjoon, sliding into the passenger seat, saw it all. He closed the door with a sigh and glanced over.

“She’s his wife, Kook.”

“I know.”

Namjoon stayed quiet for a few seconds, then tried again. “But it still hurts, doesn’t it?”

Jungkook let out a soft scoff and shook his head. “Don’t start, hyung. I don’t feel anything.”

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. “Really? 'Cause the guy who’s been doing push-ups every morning just to catch a glimpse of her doesn’t sound like someone who feels nothing.”

“I’m focused. That’s it.”

“Right,” Namjoon said dryly. “Focused on pretending you’re not in love with someone else’s wife while you risk your life every day.”

Jungkook didn’t reply.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” Namjoon added after a pause.

Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tightened. “I’m not lying. I’m surviving.”

Namjoon turned to the window and leaned his head back. “Fine. Survive. But don’t lose yourself doing it.”

The drive out of the city was long and brutal—fires, overturned cars, empty streets littered with signs of what used to be life.

But inside Jungkook’s car, the silence between two brothers-in-arms said more than words ever could.

[bluelavendre]

You just made my day😭😭😭😭

starstruck (2)

the world of flashing lights, screaming people and new projects and jobs are all new to you - luckily jungkook is right by your side for every step of it.

word count: 5.471

warning: unsolicited touching/fingering, power imbalance, manipulation, guilt tripping :{, oral sex, smut, unprotected sex, praising, dirty talk, rough sex, overstimulation, possessive behavior,

part one

“What do you think the blogs would say about us?” Jungkook jokes, a soft smile on his thin lips. He glances away from the obvious pap with a camera and eyes you. 

“Nothing too bad I hope.” you laugh. 

You don’t want to follow Jungkook’s eyes and catch the cameraman - or several - all pointing and snapping pictures at the two of you. They were mainly here for Jungkook, of course, as you were still a fresh face.

Jungkook had asked you to go to lunch today. Shooting didn’t start until later on so it was easier to agree. Months of shooting the movie, it was easier to say that Jungkook and you were growing closer as co-workers.

Friends?

Could you say Jungkook and you were friends? Everytime you think about how you and he slept together - for the sake of the movie, of course - it makes your body hot. But damn did it also make the scenes easier when you had to pretend to moan a certain way. Jungkook had told you to just remember how good you felt for him that night and to pretend that it was all real now.

“What could they say?”

Jungkook smiles at the server as she drops two plates on either side of you. You only got a salad while Jungkook opted for a steak.

“They’ll probably be dating rumors.” Jungkook speaks again. He’s cutting into his steak, his eyes watching it intently. 

“Really?” you murmur. Your eyes glances out the window to see if there’s anyone you notice snapping pictures, your nerves flowing.

“Don’t look so scared.” Jungkook laughs, sinking his teeth into the steak. His eyes are now watching you closely, taking in your soft features. “Besides, it’ll be good press.”

You knit your brows. “Good press?”

Jungkook nods. You aren’t accustomed to this lifestyle and still - months in - he finds it cute. “We’re going to have to promote the movie before and during its release.” he explains just as you begin to pour the cup of dressing onto your salad.

“You’re right.” you snort at yourself. This was a big movie and that meant promotion. The movies you’ve acted in before didn’t require that in the slightest. “I’ve never had to do that before. Do we just…talk about the movie?”

Jungkook nods his head. “Yes. We say enough without disclosing too much until after it’s released. But…” he trails off, wiggling his eyebrows. It causes you to giggle a bit, lifting the salad to your mouth and munching. “....it’d be a better promotion if people assume we’re a couple.”

You hum, tilting your head. You suppose he was correct. If people thought Jungkook and you were a couple, it would get even more eyes on the movie. It would get people pondering about you and him - especially you as the upcoming actress alongside such a powerful face. 

“Until they see the movie and witness just how toxic everything is.” you joke a bit.

Jungkook takes another bite of his steak. “People love toxic.” he shrugs one shoulder. “Some people are going to find it hot. Find us hot.”

Your body warms once more with how Jungkook says it. The way his eyes are staring right through you is an added bonus, reminding you of just how well he’s gotten to know you in such a short amount of time. 

“We have to give the people what they want, right?” Jungkook raises one brow, awaiting your response.

You’re silent at first, unsure of what to do or say. Then, you nod your head. It was obvious that Jungkook wanted you to - and wanted for the two of you to go through with what he suggested. He was the one with the experience, after all.

As for Jungkook, he offers a warm smile. His eyes sparkle a bit as he watches you, knowing full and well that the camera outside the restaurant was going to capture this genuine moment between the two of you. He holds out his right hand for you to take and slowly, you do, a bit uncertain. 

“You,” Jungkook begins, his thumb rubbing along the top of your hand. “are going to be a star, Y/N. I’ll make sure of it.”

Your cheeks are warm and you nod your head. It was as if you were in a trance, fully captivated by the performance that Jungkook was putting on - if this was even a performance in his eyes or not.

“So tell us, how do the two of your characters meet in the movie?” the interviewer asks, dancing her eyes between you and Jungkook. “I’ve seen the trailer of it and it’s…” she shakes her head, a smile forming on her lips that shows a tint of mischief. “...hot to say the least.”

“And toxic.” Jungkook chuckles, turning his head to the left to glance your way.

Your eyes catch his and you return his smile. “Sooo toxic.” you agree, a short laugh passing your lips immediately after. “When the trailer released, I wasn’t expecting all the positive feedback on a horror-like movie. But this is also my first big movie I did, so it’s all surreal.”

The camera man is sure to capture the looks between you and Jungkook, the way his smile would brighten when you’d look his way.

“But, our characters meet in a club in which I’m a bartender.” you explain. You’re seated so close to Jungkook that your shoulder brushes his. 

“Strip club.” the interview nods, raising her brows. 

“Yes,” you chuckle, nodding your head. “a strip club. We filmed in an actual club downtown where I was shown how to serve the drinks and all.”

Jungkook watches the way you explain, moving your hands to explain further. His mind wanders to the club scene, recalling the way you were dressed for said scene. He licks his lips, his mind flashing to the leather you wore. Backless halter top with matching tight leather pants that looked entirely too appealing on you. 

“And my character pays for a lapdance from her. In the movie, it’s a big deal since she’s not a dancer, but a bartender.” Jungkook explains, glancing at the interviewer. “It’s, of course, supposed to show that my character was someone with power and money. Especially if he paid for her the entire night.”

There was another look shared between you and Jungkook. Once more, you both laugh sheepishly, recalling the many times you had to give him a lap dance simply because you or him were messing up.

“In the movie, he came with his friends but he was the birthday boy.” you say, knocking your shoulder into Jungkook’s playfully. “When you watch the movie, it really shows how complex his character is.”

The interviewer raises her eyebrows. “How so?”

“At first, he’s…shy. Nervous even.” Jungkook answers. “And each time he comes back to the bar, he’s more confident. He doesn’t show who he really is until later on into the movie.”

“I guess that’s what makes it a thriller.” the interviewer wiggles her eyebrows. “What were your favorite scenes you did together?”

The camera captures you and Jungkook glance at one another again, both of you putting on an amazing show of chemistry. Ever since shooting wrapped up and now, the trailer dropping, you and Jungkook were all anyone could talk about. You had people who shipped you two together, coming up with couple names already while others made up their own synopsis of what the movie would be about with what little they were given.

With Jungkook, it was never truly a dull moment. Even during photoshoots, he and you had fun. Witnessing him become the Jungkook you know - funny, sweet and caring, to the character was amazing. He knew how to turn it on and off and even during photoshoots, he showed it. The movie poster behind you and him now captures the possessiveness his character has over yours. His arms wrapped around you, eyes staring right at you while yours were instructed to look towards the camera. The movie title is displayed right about you, yet seems to fade off a bit to solely focus on you and him.

“Mine would have to be…” you trail off, thinking for a moment. “...when he finally shows his true colors, I suppose. He becomes possessive entirely until it’s too unbearable for her to handle.”

You turn to face Jungkook, cheeks warming when he’s already looking your way.

“My favorite would have to be a much more…intimate scene.” Jungkook states. “It comes right after we had an argument and my character charms her a bit. He’s been acting crazy and obsessive but he has a way with words.”

Your smile falls a bit as you recall the exact scene Jungkook’s referencing. Your whole body feels warm now and you shift in your seat at being reminded of it.

The intimate scene itself wasn’t what caused you to shift. You and he had done much more uncomfortable scenes for a movie such as this. No, it was how ashamed you felt at doing something like that with Jungkook.

Jungkook didn’t see a problem with it. The scene caused for you and hilton beneath the covers anyways. The director, a few crew and an intimacy coach were there and you’ve done exactly what you were supposed to do. Like the intimacy coach said, intimate moments were usually acts of camera play anyways.

Yet Jungkook fingering you in front of the unknowing crew wasn’t a part of the schedule. His lips on yours to silent your protest as his fingers forced their way through your shorts and into your panties. It’s what the script called for, right? Why pretend to do it if he could do it for real and capture your actual moans and groans - all without anyone knowing what’s going on.

The adrenaline going through Jungkook as he pumps his invasive fingers in and out of you is insane to him. His lips kiss down your neck, soft voice telling you that “everything is okay” and to just “go along with it”.

Your mind had gone blank and you didn’t know what to do yourself. You didn’t want to ruin the scene or make Jungkook out to be a creep. So you helplessly laid there, widening your thighs as Jungkook’s fingers pound in you, his palm rubbing against your wet clit. He leans away a bit to look in your fluttering eyes, a smug look on his face at the genuine pleasure on your face. Even if it wasn’t in the script, he places his lips against yours possessively. He moans during the kiss, your lips one of his favorite tastes.

 And even as it was over by you, embarrassingly, cumming all over Jungkook’s hands, the director yells cut and even compliments the both of you. “It felt so raw and real.” he stated - how right he was.

You blink a few times when you feel Jungkook’s hand on your knee, squeezing it a bit.

“Yeah.” you smile a bit, awkwardly. “I remember that scene, too.”

“Y/N, tell me,” the interview leans forward a bit. “you’re the new star. You’re the talk of the internet now.” she starts. “How was it working side by side with the infamous Jeon Jungkook?”

You lick your lips. “It was hard at first. I was new to this.” you explain. “But…Jungkook made it easier for me. We got to know one another and it made things more relaxed on set. I would say he’s become a very close friend to me.”

Jungkook simpers your way, his eyes twinkling a bit at your words. His heart does a small jolt at your praises, finding that he enjoys your praises and compliments - even if he hears them from everyone constantly.

Almost overnight, you are a star. Your name is everywhere - news articles, social media posts. Your name is screamed alongside Jungkook’s during red carpet events - events you and he both attend. While Jungkook admired how beautiful you looked while alone during your pictures, he adored holding the small of your back as it was time for you and him to take pictures together. He went as far as stating that for all events and press tours, you and he should coordinate outfits - for the movie, of course.

The movie was a success, skyrocketing your career alongside Jungkook’s. Witnessing billboards advertising your movie - a movie that actually made theaters and wasn’t a cheap made-for-tv movie - left you in awe. 

And it didn’t stop there.

People actually liked you and Jungkook together. You were told to ignore hate tweets, but those were minimal compared to the ones you’ve received that enjoyed watching the movie - even if it was a disturbing one. 

The people loving you and Jungkook together meant that you were supposed to give them what they wanted - what Jungkook wanted. “Stand a little closer to me.” he’d murmur to you, flashing lights nearly blinding you. Jungkook told you to try to not look directly into them, but past them - you didn’t get the hang of it just yet. “We should be seen more often in public.” Jungkook suggested, going as far as holding your hand and oftentimes, pressing his lips to the back of it.

You were far too shy to ask Jungkook why you and he continued going on like this. You danced around the question whenever asked about your relationship with the established man, you’d laugh nervously and just say you and he were just friends.

Even with the amount of pictures and videos of you and Jungkook at red carpet events, his hands on your waist and you so close to his side. But you had to! The crowded spaces of red carpets and microphones being shoved in your face was overwhelming - and Jungkook knew just how to react each and every time.

Jungkook enjoyed your perfume, especially when it was left on his suit at the end of the night. What he enjoyed more than your perfume on his suit, was having you in his bed at night.

Jungkook, however, wasn’t shy to speak about you. Whenever asked, his smile would brighten, as would his eyes. He could steer his interview away from him and talk about you for as long as they’d let him - “Y/N’s such a natural behind the camera,” he’d say. “It’s because of her performance that the director is thinking of a sequel,”

“I actually love Y/N very much,” your eyes widen as you listen to the interview, headphones over your ears. Your heart pumps loudly in your chest, your hands growing sweaty. “we’ve been dating for quite some time now…” he trails off with a laugh, a pink tint to his cheeks.

You tear the headphones from your ears and throw them aside. Your body is warm by his words, having been sent the interview countless times. Your phone hasn’t stopped buzzing the entire time that you’ve silenced your phone.

“You aren’t upset with me are you?” Jungkook asked when he arrives to your penthouse - it was a gift from him after you landed a modelling deal. He told you the cost was pocket change when you expressed concerns. He doesn’t tell you it’s because he has his own suite just on the other side of the building - not yet at least. “I thought you knew I loved you, Y/N, how could you not?”

You could never stay mad with Jungkook, especially not when he wraps you in a warm embrace. He always smells so clean  - like soap, oddly enough.

Jungkook’s lips are already on your neck, kissing down the soft skin as you shudder. “I want people to know you’re mine.” he murmurs against you, hands possessively pulling you close. “Want to show the world just how much I love and adore you.” he states.

You’re naked in a matter of seconds. You could never stay mad at Jungkook for long. A part of you believes that without Jungkook, you would be nowhere. You wouldn’t be feating upon fine dining meals with him, and instead would be eating the same take-out chinese in your much smaller apartment booking shitty horror movie gigs. 

Jungkook had done what he promised you. He had made you a star. People knew your name. They actually liked you and your performance - there was going to be a sequel set to start filming at the end of the year and you had Jungkook to thank for that; for believing in you.

Jungkook’s lips kiss down your stomach, forcing your legs apart. Your back is against your silk sheets, the coolness of them adding goosebumps to your warm skin. His hands are soft, only a bit callused as they slide down your naked body and rest on your thighs. 

“You’re so beautiful, my love. You’re my little shining star.” Jungkook murmurs, kissing your inner thigh. He doesn’t like to waste time, even if he does adore worshipping your body. 

Jungkook’s tongue, ever so slowly, teases your clit. He’s shuddering with excitement at your moans, finding them far too enticing. Far too enticing that he shoves his tongue deeper against your wet cunt.

Your hand tangles into Jungkook’s hair, lightly tugging to keep him in place. Your eyes watch the way his head bobs back and forth, devouring your pussy like his finest meal. He’s moaning against it, lapping his warm tongue against your clit over and over again. Suckling sounds are growing louder and louder, fingernails digging into your inner thigh to assure you don’t attempt to move in the slightest.

“Feels s-so good.” you whimper, grinding your hips a bit against his tongue, allowing yet another moan from parted lips. 

Eyes flicker up to look at you, clouded in darkened lust. He continues to suckle and lick, never coming up for a breath until your legs are shaking, back arching and you’re moaning so loud that it dances off the high ceilings. The scene is so beautiful, he thinks. The floor to ceiling-high windows display the city lights, but your penthouse is so high that you never close your curtains.

Your thighs close in, caging Jungkook between your legs. You’re greedily grinding against his tongue, your stomach churning and sinking in. Jungkook doesn’t go to stop you - he doesn’t mind the way your thighs are squeezing his head. Instead, he allows you to grind against his tongue until you’re cumming. 

You’re whining, eyes squeezed shut. He knows you’re going to cum, so his fingers curling inside of your already greedy cunt was just the icing on the cake. You’re babbling Jungkook’s name over and over again, voice growing higher and higher. Your pussy is soaking his lips and chin entirely and eventually, you’re cumming all over him.

“You’re so beautiful, baby, and all mine.” Jungkook grunts, removing himself from your glistening clit. “Mine, mine, mine.”

Your chest rises and falls, your pussy clenching and unclenching.

“Say it.” Jungkook demands. He starts with his shirt first, removing it from his body and discarding it. “Say that you’re mine.” he continues. He goes to his pants next, tearing them off along with his underwear. His cock is throbbing to be deep in your warm cunt.

“I’m yours.” you murmur, glading wrapping your arms around Jungkook as he hovers above you. Your hands roam his bare chest, to his shoulders then down his biceps. “I’m yours.” you repeat, fluttering your lashes innocently like you do.

Damn right you were, Jungkook thinks.

Jungkook doesn’t care about wearing a condom, but you’re also adamant on being on birth control. You just became a big star, getting pregnant wasn’t something that’s going to ruin that.

Jungkook’s cock is shoved right into you, your walls immediately tightening around him. He doesn’t hesitate to press your legs over his shoulder, gripping your thigh as he begins to pump his cock in and out of you. The way Jungkook stretches you is intoxicating, his cock ruining your pussy with how rough he is - but you’ve never complained. 

Jungkook knows he’s a great fucker - he’s been told countless times. But with you, it’s different. He cares about your pleasure. He wants you shaking with bliss with how well his cock fucks you, witnessing your arousal coating his cock and thighs. 

“My little star,” Jungkook coo’s, your face drawn in such gratification. Your hands squeeze his bicep in an attempt to slow him down, but he wasn’t going to. “you’re so beautiful on my cock, baby. All mine.”

Jungkook’s speed quickens, his skin slapping harshly against yours and it echoes off the high ceilings. It was beginning to rain, the droplets slamming against the window.  His cock is pounding so deep and you swear you can feel him in your stomach.  

“Your cock feels so good!” you gasp. Your hand squeezes his tattoo bicep for support, his tip reaching your g-spot each and every time. 

“Yeah?” Jungkook chuckles, licking his lips. Your velvety walls entice him, sinking him deeper and deeper into you. He’s positive your thighs would have fingernail marks just as his biceps would have from yours, but of course neither of you care. “My shining star looks so pretty right now. You were upset because I told everyone I loved you, huh?”

Your cheeks are warm at the “love” word, but your heart is pounding. It all feels surreal - to be loved by someone like him. You were waiting to wake up one day and be back in your small apartment and for all of this to be a dream.

“N-No,” you cry, shaking your head a bit. “I love you, too.”

You’re unaware just how easily the two of you throw around the word love. Your love is from a mentee to a mentor, your admiration for Jungkook high. You never wanted to disappoint him and you prayed often that his own likeness for you wouldn’t fade.

Jungkook’s love for you is that of obsession, now - possession. He found you, a diamond in the rough, and gave you the opportunity of a lifetime. He molded you into the perfect star that you are now, beloved by the people and soon,  you’d be at the top of the world. 

All because of him.

“Fuck,” Jungkook groans, his eyes squinting into slits. “your pussy is amazing, my little star. All for me and me only.”

Jungkook forces your legs away and up against your shoulders. The new position causes you to yelp with how deep he is. He grinds his cock into you, watching your eyes widen and your lips fall apart. 

“My pussy to fuck any time I want, right?” Jungkook growls, your bouncing breast enticing him. Fuck, did you feel good around him.

“Slow…slow down, Kook-”

“No,” Jungkook hisses. If anything, he goes harder.

You cry for Jungkook to slow down, but the way you were squeezing around him indicates that you don’t want him to. You’re milking his cock right now, leaking all over your bed that he’s paid for like a little whore. Your eyes water, becoming glossier as overstimulation hits you.

“My pussy to fuck as hard as I want, too. You belong to me, my little star. Everything when it comes to you is mine.”

You were so silly, Jungkook thinks, begging him to slow down but you’re cumming all over him. Sticky juices coating his abdomen as you lay limp against your bed, twitching legs - but Jungkook wasn’t done yet, not until he was cumming.

Your eyes are fluttering, moans a hushed whimper now as his cock pounds in and out of you sloppily, curses and grunts releasing from your lips until you feel him cum inside of you. 

“You’re…firing me?”

You remain silent, eyes casting away as your agent looks between you and Jungkook.

“Y/N doesn’t need your surfaces anymore.” Jungkook speaks up. You and he are seated in the diner and all you’re drinking is a latte at the moment. You were too nervous and you know you won’t be able to hold anything down.

Your agent scoffs. She licks her lips for a moment, glaring her eyes to you. 

“Say something, Y/N.” she demands. “If you’re firing me, don’t have your boyfriend do it.” she scoffs with a bitter laugh.

Your body is warm with embarrassment and nerves. You didn’t want to look at her and see the look in her eyes of now being without a job. Your heart is pounding, your palms growing sweaty. 

“You’re pathetic.” she groans.

“Watch your mouth.” Jungkook pipes in, his voice dangerously low. 

The diner is nearly empty, only occupied with older people who always minded their business - one of the main reasons why Jungkook loved coming here with you. That, and the banana pancakes were the best in town.

“Fuck the both of you.” your now ex-agent spats, slamming her hands against the table. You are seated in the far back of the diner and no heads turn. “You think just because you’re an actress now that got your big break that you’re on top?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. You didn’t want to be here right now. This wasn’t even your idea, you think, it was Jungkook. He was the one that suggested that he be your agent and manager as he was an actor and he understood the in’s and out’s of the entertainment industry.  He could negotiate you for bigger and better deals and movie contracts that suited you the best - not some agent who wasn’t known at all.

“I said,” Jungkook hisses, leaning against the table. “watch your fucking mouth.” he says through gritted teeth. His hand reaches out and two fingers poke against her forehead roughly and rather disrespectfully. “I was nice enough to give you another client. Don’t piss me off.”

“Jungkook,” you murmur, finally glancing up. “Stop-”

“Fuck you.” your ex-agent repeats. She stands and shakes her head. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Y/N.”

You weren’t sure you did.

Everything went through Jungkook first before you. With Jungkook managing you, that meant that the opportunities were endless. You were an ambassador for popular and well-known brands. You got to wear - and keep - clothing from high end brands. You stared in tv-shows and commercials and got movie deals alongside actors you’ve never thought you’d be in the same room as - all like Jungkook.

But Jungkook wasn’t just your agent and manager, but your boyfriend. He reads the things people say about you online - the good, the bad and the perverted. There were accounts that said such disgusting things about you - what they wanted to do to you.

And your toes. 

Jungkook had managed to get the site taken down, but that wasn’t the end of it. You received fanmail and gifts and he only ever kept those that were from girls, but it was hard.

“The script needs to be changed.” Jungkook scoffs, slamming the book down against the coffee table.

“What’s wrong with it?” the director asks with raised eyebrows. “Y/N is the lead. Our final girl.”

“And that’s amazing.” Jungkook shrugs. Jungkook had told them prior that if they wanted you in this movie, that you had to be the final girl. He wouldn’t allow you to play a useless character - you were his shining star and stars don’t die in movies. “But there’s a sex scene.”

The director scoffs. “Yea.” he says slowly. “This is a horror movie. Sex sells in horror.” he says. “There’s sex scenes in the movie you two did together.”

Jungkook tilts his head, unamused. There was a reason why he doesn’t care about the sex scene you and he did in his movie - and the director knows that.

“If you want Y/N in your movie,” Jungkook begins. “change. The. Scene.” he says slowly. “Or she’s going somewhere else.”

The scene was changed and at every shoot you were supposed to be on, Jungkook was there. He loves seeing you act - you were a natural. He adored driving down and seeing you on billboards or against buildings. 

Jungkook does this to keep an eye on you, of course. He trusts you, but not whatever men that were on set. 

It was even better when Jungkook and you walked together, side by side and arm in arm. You and him were the hottest couple the entertainment industry had. Jungkook made it his mission to support all your projects, supporting them during interviews and events, showing how supportive he was of you and your growing career.

You’re so busy with this new success that you don’t even notice your ex-agent never working in the industry again. Wherever she tries to tell her story of how horrible Jungkook treated her, her accounts would just get banned or people would refuse to believe it. She isn’t allowed in any event near you or him and is escorted out by security upon arrival.

You also don’t notice how everyone steer clears from you at times. Not because of anything you’ve done, but because of Jungkook. 

You haven’t heard the way he berated your co-star, not an unknown actress, but nowhere near his level, when she had accidently got in front of your shot during a scene.

You weren’t present when he threatened to make sure the director didn’t work in this industry again if he didn’t give you better clothing and lighting - his shining star deserved everything money could buy. After all, he was funding all of this.

You don’t - until you do.

You’ve never seen  Jungkook so angry. The way he yells at the stylist for daring to dress you in clothes that aren't appealing. How she had cried before apologizing, rolling the rack of clothes out of your room. Your eyes have widened at Jungkook and he shakes his head. “It’s hard to get good help.”

“That was uncalled for.” you murmur. You turn your head to face him. He’s holding a small glass of dark liquor and he scoffs. 

“Do you think I’d allow them to dress you in undeserving clothing, Y/N?” Jungkook licks his lips. “You deserve better.”

“You made her cry.” you cross your arms. “She’s just doing her job, Kook.”

Jungkook brings the glass to his lips again, dark eyes watching you as he takes another swig of it. “I’m doing my job, too.” he murmurs, licking his lips. “As your agent, manager and boyfriend.”

Your shoulders relax for a moment. You didn’t like when Jungkook was mean to people, especially at your expense. However, a side of you knew that he was doing this for your sake.

“I know.” you murmur, sighing. You drop your arms. “Still, go easy on them.”

Jungkook nods his head, but he knows more than anyone that he wasn’t going to go easy. Never when it came to you.

Whatever drama behind the scenes with Jeon Jungkook never made its way to the public. Whoever went against his orders were fired and blackballed - actors, crew, writers and directors. He had far too much pull in this industry that whatever happened behind closed doors would never see the light. 

Jungkook loves you, however. You were his shining star, after all. He adored you with every fiber of his being. It’s why he finds himself now, on one knee with the largest diamond ring you’ve ever seen in your life. The crowd is screaming and the lights are flashing even faster now. At first you’re confused, until you hear everyone screaming “say yes”.

Your head turns to Jungkook and your eyes widen. Your heart is pumping so loudly in your ears that you find it hard to breathe. Your palms grow sweaty, nervousness building up. You were on the red carpet for a new movie - not a proposal.

Jungkook’s eyes narrow as you continue to look at him, a glint in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. It causes you to blink a few times before smiling widely. “...Y-Yes!” you squeal.

Jungkook slides the sparkling ring onto your finger and gets on your feet. He wraps you in his arms, kissing your forehead. 

Jungkook senses your hesitance, the scared yet slightly upset look in your eyes - maybe because this was your moment that he had made about the two of you. Yet he does what he does because he loves you - you’re his shining star. He had molded you from the unknown actress in shitty movies, to a star whose light hadn’t faded all in under two years. He’s made you the top model, actress and ambassador - the least you could do was show him more appreciation for his hard word and investment.

After all, you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Jungkook’s wrath. He could show you another side of him that you wouldn’t love in the slightest.

@darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree @chimmy-licious @investedreader @allie-in-the-moon @iveivory @annyeongbitch7 @minshookie29 @honeymeraki @keen-li @minimoninini @parkinglot-nights @frxnkiie @haru-jiminn @whothefuckisthishoe @mar-lo-pap @jimineepaboya @lola75111 @crybaby29 @bluelavendre

[bluelavendre]

Special Producer

BTS ot7 x reader fluff

Other Stuff Here

Drabble 1

The overhead lights buzzed quietly in the BigHit practice room, casting a soft glow on the mirrored walls and freshly polished floor. The air held the scent of sweat, cleaning fluid, and something else too—something tighter, more electric.

Seven boys stood side by side, their postures varying between stiff and fidgety. Some shuffled nervously, others kept their heads slightly bowed. Excitement mixed with uncertainty in the air like dust motes dancing in sunlight.

The door creaked open.

You stepped in gently, careful not to make too much noise. A notebook was tucked tightly to your chest, and your oversized hoodie nearly swallowed your hands. Your headphones were looped around your neck, and your eyes flicked up, just for a moment, to meet the sea of unfamiliar faces staring at you.

“She’s here,” said the manager, motioning to you. “This is Y/N. She’s a songwriter and producer, born in ‘96 like some of you. She’s been working behind the scenes for years now. You’ll be seeing more of her from today.”

You gave a tiny bow. “Hello... I’m Y/N. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

Your voice was soft—barely above a whisper—but there was something about the way you stood: reserved, yes, but grounded. You didn’t need to be loud. You had presence.

Namjoon was the first to blink out of the stunned silence. “Wait, you’re... our age?”

You nodded lightly. “Mhm. Just a few months difference, probably.”

“Woah…” Taehyung whispered. “She’s like a quiet boss.”

You felt your cheeks warm, and quickly looked down at your notebook.

Jungkook peeked out from behind Hoseok’s shoulder, eyes wide. “She looks so young…”

“She is young,” Jimin whispered to him.

You cleared your throat gently and looked up, eyes kind but focused. “I know I don’t look very… experienced. But I’ve been doing this for a while.”

Yoongi, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, tilted his head slightly, observing. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were sharp, thoughtful.

“We’re not doubting you,” Namjoon said quickly, stepping forward. “We’re just… kind of surprised. In a good way.”

You smiled softly, brushing your sleeve down over your hand. “It’s okay. Happens a lot.”

Jungkook seemed to summon his courage. “Umm… have you worked with… like, real idols?”

You nodded again, a bit shyly. “Yes. I just like writing. Arranging. Helping artists tell their stories.”

The room was silent for a moment—out of respect now, not confusion.

“I like her already,” Hoseok whispered.

You caught it but pretended not to hear, instead flipping open your notebook and glancing around. “You all trained hard today, right?”

“Y-Yeah!” they said, almost in unison.

“Would it be alright if I listened to something?” you asked. “Maybe a verse or chorus of something you’ve practiced?”

They all nodded, and Jin stepped over to cue up the track. As the music started, you stood quietly by the console, scribbling in your notebook now and then. Your expression was soft, thoughtful, but focused. Every note, every rhythm, you took it in like it mattered.

And it did matter—to you, and clearly, to them too.

After a while, you looked up, your voice a little steadier. “You’re all really talented. There's… a lot of emotion in how you perform. We can shape that into something special.”

Jimin beamed. Taehyung grinned so wide his eyes disappeared. Even Yoongi nodded slightly in approval.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’ll start small. A few writing sessions. We’ll figure out what suits you best.”

“Thank you for helping us,” Jungkook said suddenly, his voice sincere and soft. “Really.”

You blinked, surprised, then gave a quiet smile. “It’s my pleasure. Just… don’t be scared to try things. Mistakes are okay.”

And just like that, the tension in the room melted.

The quiet, shy producer with a mind full of melodies had made her entrance—and the seven boys knew, even if they didn’t fully understand it yet…

This was the start of something important.

[bluelavendre]

Special Producer Is Here

Uhhmmm hey guys😅 its been awhile hehe.

I deeply apologise for not having updates. I will be graduating this Wednesday🥳 and I really thought I could revise some stuff that i will be posting... but guess what?? I DIDN'T because I still have papers to be signed so that I could graduate BUTTT finallyyyyy one last rehearsal I can finally snatch that diploma and 🛌. SOO i have this dream, that i was a writer/lyricist/probably a producer (Dream job btw) so I did a quick writing about a fanfic about that hehe imma post it later.. bye😘

[bluelavendre]

Special Producer

BTS ot7 x reader fluff

Drabble 5

The event wasn’t glitzy or televised. No flashing lights or red carpet, no paparazzi, no chaotic press junkets. It was small — maybe fifty people seated in a softly lit event hall with string lights on the ceiling and music drifting low in the background.

You hadn’t even planned to go.

You almost didn’t.

The email had come a month ago. An independent music organization was recognizing underground and behind-the-scenes producers for “exceptional contribution to artistry and emotional storytelling.” One of the recipients? You.

You nearly deleted it.

But here you were, tucked into a black blazer two sizes too big, hair in a loose clip, clutching your note cards with trembling hands at a candlelit table near the back.

“They probably won’t even say my name out loud,” you had whispered earlier that day on a group call with the boys.

“They’d better,” Yoongi said flatly.

“Let us come,” Jungkook had begged. “We’ll sit in the back! In disguises!”

“They’ll cause a riot,” you’d murmured.

You were right.

Because even though you hadn’t invited them — even though you swore them to stay away — the moment the announcer said:

“This year’s award for Best Emotional Production goes to… Y/N L/N,”

…you heard an unmistakable voice shout:

“THAT’S OUR NOONA!!”

You froze.

The audience clapped politely — until the back doors of the venue swung open.

Seven tall figures entered the room wearing matching sunglasses, comically oversized scarves, and bucket hats pulled so low they looked like confused celebrities at the wrong event.

“Please don’t be them,” you whispered under your breath, horrified.

“SURPRISE!!!” Jungkook yelled, throwing his arms in the air as if this were a confetti cannon-worthy moment.

You nearly dropped your note cards.

Taehyung was holding up his phone with the flashlight on like it was a concert. Jimin was hyping up the few confused guests at nearby tables, chanting your name. Jin was already crying fake tears into a napkin. Namjoon looked semi-apologetic as he clapped proudly, dimples deep. Hoseok was filming the entire thing. And Yoongi? Yoongi just looked smug.

“She deserves the world,” he said coolly, as if he didn’t crash your very non-viral award show in full celebrity disguise.

You walked to the stage, red-faced, your hands shaking.

When you got to the mic, you whispered, “I’m so sorry about my friends…”

The room laughed.

You cleared your throat. “I don’t really… talk much. But, um… thank you. For listening to the work, even if you didn’t see me behind it. I—I like it better that way. But… this means a lot. I… I didn’t expect this.”

A sniffle echoed from the back.

“Is Jin crying?” someone whispered.

“LET HER HAVE HER MOMENT!” he sobbed dramatically.

You glanced up for one second — just a second — and your eyes locked with Namjoon’s. He gave you a small nod. It said everything.

You took a deep breath. “I make music because people feel things they can’t always say out loud. I just… hope I’ve helped someone find the words.”

And with that, you quickly bowed and scurried off stage.

Jungkook screamed, “THAT’S MY PRODUCER-NIM!!!” and your soul left your body.

Later, in the dim hallway by the dressing rooms, you found all seven of them waiting with flowers (stolen from the hotel lobby), bubble tea, and proud, childlike grins.

“We weren’t gonna miss this,” Namjoon said.

“You deserve big stages too,” Jimin added softly.

You blinked, shy, overwhelmed — your award still clutched to your chest.

“You’re our secret weapon,” Hoseok whispered, pulling you into a hug.

“Not so secret anymore,” Jungkook grinned. “Noona’s a star~!”

[bluelavendre]

Special Producer

BTS ot7 x reader Fluff

Drabble 4

The video started rolling with the familiar BTS intro jingle and a soft laugh from Taehyung, who was already leaning into Jungkook’s shoulder, hoodie half over his head like a blanket.

“Today’s a very, very special reaction,” Jimin told the camera, barely holding back his grin. “We’re reacting to a scene from our documentary.”

“But more importantly…” Hoseok added, raising both hands like he was hyping up a wrestling match, “She. Is. IN. IT.”

“Producer-nim has entered the chat,” Jin said dramatically, earning a round of giggles from the others.

“She’s always hiding,” Yoongi smirked, “but the editors finally got her.”

The clip began playing in the corner of the screen. The mood immediately softened. A shot of the studio came up — low light, scattered snacks, and the warm glow from the computer monitor. You were on the couch in the corner, knees tucked to your chest, hoodie sleeves covering your hands. You were nodding along to Jungkook’s vocals, hair falling in your face as you concentrated.

“There she is~!” Taehyung whispered like a proud older brother.

“She looks so serious,” Jimin cooed.

“She always does when she’s working,” Namjoon smiled. “She’s in the zone.”

“I miss that couch,” Jungkook said suddenly. “The crumb couch.”

Yoongi groaned. “That couch had, like, three bags of Hot Cheetos spilled on it.”

The scene transitioned to you talking quietly with Jungkook about harmony layers. You were professional, calm, even though your voice was soft — you explained things with your hands and a tiny frown of focus on your face.

“She looks so nervous,” Hoseok said, noticing how your eyes kept darting toward the camera and away.

“Wait, wait, it’s coming—” Jungkook suddenly grinned.

The documentary scene cut to a moment where Namjoon accidentally hit the wrong button and made the instrumental track play backwards, sounding like a haunted squirrel choking underwater.

And you — you broke. On camera. No hiding. You completely cracked up.

It wasn’t a cute giggle either — it was full-on, wheezy-lunged, snorting laughter. You doubled over, covering your mouth, but the sound was already out there: totally uncontrollable.

“THERE IT IS!!!” Jungkook yelled, slapping the table. “THE LAUGH!!”

“YESSSSSS!” Jimin whooped. “WE GOT HER LAUGHING ON CAMERA!”

“OH MY GOD,” Taehyung shouted, laughing so hard he fell sideways. “SHE SNORTED!”

“Replay that—REPLAY THAT!” Jin begged, tears in his eyes.

They rewound it and rewatched you laugh again.

And again.

And again.

“Look at her,” Hoseok said, clapping his hands. “She tried so hard to stay composed, and then boom, Namjoon broke her with ghost-squirrel beats.”

“She was so red after that,” Yoongi grinned. “She literally ran out of the studio.”

Namjoon, looking proud and slightly embarrassed, shrugged. “At least I made her laugh.”

“She didn’t come back for like ten minutes!” Jungkook added. “We had to bribe her with iced coffee.”

As the clip ended and faded to black, the boys sat back with warm, joyful expressions — some still wiping away tears from laughing.

“She’s a star now,” Jungkook grinned. “Waaaa~ noona’s a staaarr!”

“She’s gonna kill us when she sees this,” Namjoon laughed.

“But worth it,” Jimin nodded.

“Totally worth it,” they all agreed, voices full of mischief and love.

And somewhere — hiding under your comforter, clutching a pillow, face burning — you were both horrified and laughing so hard your stomach hurt.

[bluelavendre]

Special Producer

BTS ot7 x reader fluff

Drabble 3

The interview set was bright and minimal—neutral tones, potted plants in the corners, and the ever-familiar clack of cameras adjusting focus. BTS sat comfortably on the couch, dressed in soft knits and denim, laughter still lingering from the last segment.

The interviewer smiled and flipped to the next card.

“Okay, here’s a question a lot of ARMYs submitted,” she said, eyes twinkling. “They want to know more about your long-time producer—the quiet one in the background that fans have lovingly nicknamed ‘ghost genius.’”

The members all smiled—some grinned, others chuckled softly, eyes drifting toward each other knowingly.

“Ah… Y/N,” Namjoon said first, voice rich with fondness. “She’s… special.”

“She’s part of the family,” Jimin added, his tone softer now.

“She hates cameras,” Jin said with a playful smirk, adjusting his mic. “Every time one points her way, she ducks behind a monitor.”

“Literally vanishes,” Taehyung chimed in, laughing. “She’s like a shy cat.”

“She only got a few cameos,” Namjoon added, glancing toward the interviewer, “but ARMYs really love her.”

“She didn’t want any of them to be shown,” Jungkook said, smiling to himself. “But the camera caught her laughing once during a behind-the-scenes clip. She was covering her mouth with her sleeve.”

“And the clip went viral,” Hoseok added, grinning. “ARMYs were like, ‘WHO IS SHE?!’”

“She didn’t even know it until we told her,” Yoongi said, eyes soft with amusement. “She almost cried from embarrassment.”

They all laughed again, but there was something deeper in their expressions now—something reflective.

“She’s been with us since the beginning,” Namjoon continued after a moment, his voice steadier. “Back when we were just trainees, sitting in a half-lit studio, wondering if any of this would work out.”

“She didn’t speak much back then,” Yoongi said, “but when she did, it was always the right thing.”

“She could just… listen to your feelings and turn them into chords,” Hoseok added, his hands moving gently as if shaping the air. “Like magic.”

“I used to write things down when I didn’t know how to say them out loud,” Jimin admitted. “She’d read them and somehow know how I felt better than I did.”

Jungkook nodded. “We’d go to her with lyrics, or just feelings… and she’d help us make something beautiful from it.”

“She never asked for credit,” Jin said, voice soft. “She never wanted it. She just wanted us to be heard.”

The room quieted for a moment. The kind of silence that didn’t feel empty—but full. A silence that held memories, gratitude, friendship.

“I think,” Namjoon said slowly, “a lot of our sound… our identity as a group… came from her ability to see the parts of ourselves we didn’t always understand. She let us be angry, or lost, or in love. She never judged. She just… translated.”

The interviewer smiled gently, eyes bright. “That’s really beautiful.”

“She’d probably be hiding under the table if she heard all this,” Taehyung said with a grin.

“But she deserves to hear it,” Yoongi said quietly.

The camera zoomed in just slightly as the moment lingered—seven men, grown and seasoned, still holding deep love for the girl who once sat quietly with a notebook in the corner of a dusty studio.

“She’s always been there,” Namjoon finished softly. “Even when the spotlight wasn’t.”

[bluelavendre]

Special Producer

BTS ot7 x reader Fluff

Drabble 2

The studio was dimly lit, the only glow coming from the mixing board, scattered monitors, and the soft hum of the computer screen. Outside, Seoul buzzed with its usual rhythm, but in here, time slowed down.

You sat in your usual spot—slightly curled in the corner of the couch, notebook in your lap, headphones resting around your neck. A quiet observer, but fully present.

Across the room, the boys were clustered around the center table. They had just wrapped another long dance practice, their shirts still clinging to their backs, water bottles half-empty. But their eyes—despite the exhaustion—were alive.

This was different. This was important.

“Okay,” Namjoon started, flipping open his notebook with scribbled lines and circled phrases, “we need to talk about the album. The big one. Our first studio album.”

The words hung in the air like a secret about to be told.

Yoongi leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “We’ve been doing bright, fun stuff, but... I think we should show a different side this time.”

“A darker one,” Taehyung chimed in. “Something deeper. Real.”

“Wild,” Jimin added. “Like, emotions you can’t control.”

Hoseok nodded. “Yeah… like passion that’s a little dangerous.”

Namjoon looked at you then, eyes curious. “What do you think, Y/N?”

You blinked. You hadn’t expected them to ask.

Your fingers curled slightly around your notebook, but you lifted your head. “...I think that’s powerful,” you said softly. “You’re growing. So your sound and message should too.”

The boys exchanged glances.

“I... I made something,” you added quickly, motioning to your laptop. “Just a sample. I wasn’t sure if it fit, but…”

You hesitated.

Namjoon smiled reassuringly. “We want to hear it.”

You pressed play, unsure.

A deep bass pulsed through the speakers. The beat started slow, building with layers of synths—moody, charged, but not overbearing. Then the drums kicked in—gritty, deliberate, echoing with emotion. It felt like standing at the edge of a storm. Heavy. Hungry. Honest.

Heads started nodding.

“Whoa…” Jungkook muttered, leaning forward, eyes wide.

“That bassline is filthy—in the best way,” Yoongi said, already bobbing his head in rhythm.

“This could be an opener,” Namjoon said, exchanging a look with Hoseok. “Something to set the tone.”

You shifted slightly, voice still soft. “I thought… if you’re going for raw emotion, you need a sound that doesn’t pretend. Just… hits straight.”

“Exactly,” Jimin said, voice filled with awe.

“I can already imagine the choreography,” Hoseok murmured, half-lost in thought.

And then you hesitated again—before quietly tearing a sheet from your notebook. You slid it across the table. A sample verse. Scribbled quickly, but clean and sharp. Your handwriting was neat, your wording simple, but powerful.

Namjoon read it first—eyebrows slowly lifting in surprise.

Yoongi leaned over his shoulder. His face broke into a slow, knowing grin. “This is... really good.”

“It sounds like pain and love and anger all mixed up,” Jimin whispered.

“It feels young and wild and stupid,” Taehyung added. “I like that.”

“I felt like the words should sting a little,” you said shyly. “But still sound beautiful.”

Namjoon passed the page around, and even the vocal line read it carefully, nodding in agreement.

Then Hoseok laughed. “You’re full of surprises, Y/N.”

You smiled sheepishly. “I’m just... listening closely.”

“Listening,” Yoongi echoed, “and translating feelings into sound. That’s what producers really do.”

There was a pause. Then Jungkook—quiet until now—raised his hand slightly.

“What if we called it…” he paused, thinking. “Something like Dark & Wild?”

Namjoon’s eyes lit up. “That’s it.”

The room filled with quiet excitement, like a match had been struck.

Your sample beat continued to hum softly in the background as they all leaned in—ideas bouncing off the walls, energy rising, creativity pouring out like it had been waiting for this exact moment.

And you?

You stayed curled in the corner, half-hidden by your notebook, a small smile on your lips.

They might not know it yet…

But you had just helped give birth to something unforgettable.

[bluelavendre]

Special Producer

BTS ot7 x reader fluff

Other Stuff Here

Drabble 1

The overhead lights buzzed quietly in the BigHit practice room, casting a soft glow on the mirrored walls and freshly polished floor. The air held the scent of sweat, cleaning fluid, and something else too—something tighter, more electric.

Seven boys stood side by side, their postures varying between stiff and fidgety. Some shuffled nervously, others kept their heads slightly bowed. Excitement mixed with uncertainty in the air like dust motes dancing in sunlight.

The door creaked open.

You stepped in gently, careful not to make too much noise. A notebook was tucked tightly to your chest, and your oversized hoodie nearly swallowed your hands. Your headphones were looped around your neck, and your eyes flicked up, just for a moment, to meet the sea of unfamiliar faces staring at you.

“She’s here,” said the manager, motioning to you. “This is Y/N. She’s a songwriter and producer, born in ‘96 like some of you. She’s been working behind the scenes for years now. You’ll be seeing more of her from today.”

You gave a tiny bow. “Hello... I’m Y/N. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

Your voice was soft—barely above a whisper—but there was something about the way you stood: reserved, yes, but grounded. You didn’t need to be loud. You had presence.

Namjoon was the first to blink out of the stunned silence. “Wait, you’re... our age?”

You nodded lightly. “Mhm. Just a few months difference, probably.”

“Woah…” Taehyung whispered. “She’s like a quiet boss.”

You felt your cheeks warm, and quickly looked down at your notebook.

Jungkook peeked out from behind Hoseok’s shoulder, eyes wide. “She looks so young…”

“She is young,” Jimin whispered to him.

You cleared your throat gently and looked up, eyes kind but focused. “I know I don’t look very… experienced. But I’ve been doing this for a while.”

Yoongi, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, tilted his head slightly, observing. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were sharp, thoughtful.

“We’re not doubting you,” Namjoon said quickly, stepping forward. “We’re just… kind of surprised. In a good way.”

You smiled softly, brushing your sleeve down over your hand. “It’s okay. Happens a lot.”

Jungkook seemed to summon his courage. “Umm… have you worked with… like, real idols?”

You nodded again, a bit shyly. “Yes. I just like writing. Arranging. Helping artists tell their stories.”

The room was silent for a moment—out of respect now, not confusion.

“I like her already,” Hoseok whispered.

You caught it but pretended not to hear, instead flipping open your notebook and glancing around. “You all trained hard today, right?”

“Y-Yeah!” they said, almost in unison.

“Would it be alright if I listened to something?” you asked. “Maybe a verse or chorus of something you’ve practiced?”

They all nodded, and Jin stepped over to cue up the track. As the music started, you stood quietly by the console, scribbling in your notebook now and then. Your expression was soft, thoughtful, but focused. Every note, every rhythm, you took it in like it mattered.

And it did matter—to you, and clearly, to them too.

After a while, you looked up, your voice a little steadier. “You’re all really talented. There's… a lot of emotion in how you perform. We can shape that into something special.”

Jimin beamed. Taehyung grinned so wide his eyes disappeared. Even Yoongi nodded slightly in approval.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “We’ll start small. A few writing sessions. We’ll figure out what suits you best.”

“Thank you for helping us,” Jungkook said suddenly, his voice sincere and soft. “Really.”

You blinked, surprised, then gave a quiet smile. “It’s my pleasure. Just… don’t be scared to try things. Mistakes are okay.”

And just like that, the tension in the room melted.

The quiet, shy producer with a mind full of melodies had made her entrance—and the seven boys knew, even if they didn’t fully understand it yet…

This was the start of something important.

[bluelavendre]

MS/MR WTITER U DID IT AGAIN AND I LUV YAAAAA😫 can't wait for this😭😭😭

fuck it, a look into part 2 to "starstruck"

the world of flashing lights, screaming people and new projects and jobs are all new to you - luckily jungkook is right by your side for every step of it.

“I’ve never had to do that before. Do we just…talk about the movie?”

Jungkook nods his head. “Yes. We say enough without disclosing too much until after it’s released. But…” he trails off, wiggling his eyebrows. It causes you to giggle a bit, lifting the salad to your mouth and munching. “....it’d be a better promotion if people assume we’re a couple.”

You hum, tilting your head. You suppose he was correct. If people thought Jungkook and you were a couple, it would get even more eyes on the movie. It would get people pondering about you and him - especially you as the upcoming actress alongside such a powerful face. 

“Until they see the movie and witness just how toxic everything is.” you joke a bit.

Jungkook takes another bite of his steak. “People love toxic.” he shrugs one shoulder. “Some people are going to find it hot. Find us hot.”

Your body warms once more with how Jungkook says it. The way his eyes are staring right through you is an added bonus, reminding you of just how well he’s gotten to know you in such a short amount of time. 

“We have to give the people what they want, right?” Jungkook raises one brow, awaiting your response. "I promised I was going to turn you into a star, right?"

...

 The interviewer wiggles her eyebrows. “What were your favorite scenes you did together?”

The camera captures you and Jungkook glance at one another again, both of you putting on an amazing show of chemistry. Ever since shooting wrapped up and now, the trailer dropping, you and Jungkook were all anyone could talk about. You had people who shipped you two together, coming up with couple names already while others made up their own synopsis of what the movie would be about with what little they were given.

“My favorite would have to be a much more…intimate scene.” Jungkook states. “It comes right after we had an argument and my character charms her a bit. He’s been acting crazy and obsessive but he has a way with words.”

Your smile falls a bit as you recall the exact scene Jungkook’s referencing. Your whole body feels warm now and you shift in your seat at being reminded of it.

The intimate scene itself wasn’t what caused you to shift. You and he had done much more uncomfortable scenes for a movie such as this...

[bluelavendre]

Uhhmmm hey guys😅 its been awhile hehe.

I deeply apologise for not having updates. I will be graduating this Wednesday🥳 and I really thought I could revise some stuff that i will be posting... but guess what?? I DIDN'T because I still have papers to be signed so that I could graduate BUTTT finallyyyyy one last rehearsal I can finally snatch that diploma and 🛌. SOO i have this dream, that i was a writer/lyricist/probably a producer (Dream job btw) so I did a quick writing about a fanfic about that hehe imma post it later.. bye😘

[bluelavendre]

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

⤷ Subtitle | Obsessed with you

⤷ Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

⤷ Genre | Yandere!AU, Dark Romance!AU, Smut (dubcon, noncon), Angst, Kidnapping, Violence, Obsession

➢ Ratings | +18 / M (Mature)

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | This work originated in Italian, so I apologize for any errors you will find, I am not a native english speaker 🥺❤

Also, this does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

➢ For Italian tumblr readers, if you are interested in reading this story, please know that it is already on Wattpad in Italian: HAPPY ENDING ITALIAN VERSION

||𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧||

Chapter One | 13.01.24

Chapter Two | 15.01.24

Chapter Three | 18.01.24

Chapter Four | 20.01.24

Chapter Five | 24.01.24

Chapter Six | 28.01.24

Chapter Seven | 02.02.24

Chapter Eight - The End | 07.02.24

||DRABBLE||

EXTRA 01 | 17.02.24

EXTRA 02 | 02.03.24

||SPIN-OFF||

Happy Ending Series

© | I do not allow republication or editing of this story by third parties, all rights belong to me, anyone guilty of the crime of plagiarism will be reported and blocked. The same goes for the smartasses who will take pieces of my story without my explicit consent.