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Quite literally background story of how Jungkook met his wife
Only two warnings! Pervert! Jungkook and 18-year-old Jungkook 🥵
Jeon Yn, Maiden name Valentine Yn, wedded into the mafia world by taking this guy's last name. Jeon Jungkook.
Remember that name, now.
Yes, Her last name is Valentine as MarshallValentine. The late honorable sheriff, the Marshall, was her daddy.
Mr. Valentine was in a league on his own, shooting & catching bad guys and fighting against life-threatening odds until a pair of big beautiful eyes opened up to him, extending her little hands in the air to her proud teary-eyed papa.
However, tragedy struck on the same day; the beloved Mrs.Valentine passed away during childbirth leaving behind a heartbroken husband and a newborn baby.
Having a sheriff as a father served as no picnic; thankfully enough for him, She wasn't the rebel teenager type, but she was curious, and sometimes that could be just as bad.
In her late teens, She grew into her mother's face; heart-stopping eyes, cute noses, kissable plush lips, and a voice so sweet its teeth rotting. She fits the princess's descriptions. Kindness, Innocence, Beautiful, and...smarts?
Okay, She's not the brightest crayon in the box; she's quite naive, to say the least; her father notices this after this instance
"I'm home!" She kicked off her Mary Jane at the door, her backpack abandoned alongside her shoes. Regardless of her father stressing countless how much he nearly trips to his early demise. She cheerfully sat on her father's chair arm. "Hi, Daddy."
He smiled." Hello, Sweetheart!" Mr. Valentine scrambled about the living room, searching for something that seemed not to want to be found. "For Christ's sake, The hell is that damn tie?!"
Her smile faded away. "Nightly parlor duty, again?" A silky black material shimmered out of the corner of her eye. The tie! "I got it. I got it." She gently removed his helping hands from the tie allowing his princess to aid him.
Mr. Valentine was over the moon for his princess. The difficulty and worry of protecting his angel took a toll on his old body. He's no spring chicken anymore-and. This reality frightened him more than any criminal ever could.
"Daddy? Are you going to be late?" Those soften eyes snapped him out of his depression.
He sniffled. "Don't worry about me, Honeycomb." He can't fall apart yet..not yet. He pecked her forehead. "How about this, little lamb, dinners on me. Duty calls, Sugafoot." A quick peck on the forehead once more and out the door.
"Bye." She whispered in the empty house space.
I will make dinner for when he comes home. (Rice Porridge) sounds good, but do we have the ingredients? She was welcomed to an empty pantry, cabinet, and fridge, but her father's six-pack of beer.
