✔️Yandere Jungkook Oneshot

[I] Noona

ONESHOT | 26 [I]

Jungkook slouched against the grimy brick wall of an alleyway, the dim orange glow of a streetlamp casting shadows over his sharp features. The cigarette between his lips dangled loosely as he exhaled, watching the thin trail of smoke curl into the cold night air. He smirked to himself. His parents thought freezing his cards would keep him in line? Fools. If anything, it made sneaking out all the more thrilling. Pulling his hoodie up, he flicked ash onto the ground and took another drag. The bitter taste of rebellion sat comfortably on his tongue until—

A hand shot out of nowhere and snatched the cigarette from his mouth. "What the—?" He whipped his head around, anger bubbling to the surface. "Hey, what's your—" His voice caught in his throat when his eyes met yours. You stood there, glaring at him with a mix of exasperation and authority. In the dim light, your features seemed almost ethereal—like something he'd only ever seen in his dreams. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he forgot how to be angry. "Are you serious right now?" you scolded, holding the cigarette between two fingers as though it disgusted you. "You can't be more than seventeen. What are you doing smoking?"

Jungkook blinked, struggling to form a coherent sentence. He'd faced furious parents, teachers, and even the occasional police officer, but nothing prepared him for this. For you. "That's none of your business," he finally muttered, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket. His tone was meant to sound tough, but it came out weaker than he intended. "Oh, it is my business when I see a kid ruining his lungs in some sketchy alleyway," you countered, raising an eyebrow. "Do you even know how much damage smoking does to your body?" He stared at you, dumbfounded. "I'm not a kid," he shot back, trying to regain some semblance of control. "And I've heard the whole 'it's bad for you' lecture before, so you can spare me the—"

"How old are you?" you interrupted, crossing your arms. "Seventeen," he admitted begrudgingly, his eyes darting away. "Exactly. A minor," you said firmly. "Smoking isn't just illegal for you; it's stupid. You think you're invincible because you're young, but trust me, you're not." Jungkook opened his mouth to retort but stopped when he noticed how serious you looked. Your gaze was steady, almost like you could see right through him, and it made him feel small. Vulnerable. "You don't know me," he muttered under his breath. "No, I don't," you agreed, stepping closer. "But I know that you'll regret this one day. I've seen too many people think they're untouchable, only to pay the price later." He hated the way his heart raced as you spoke. Was it because of the way your voice sounded—calm, yet commanding—or was it because you were the first person in a long time to look at him like he was worth saving?

"Look," you sighed, tossing the cigarette onto the ground and crushing it with your shoe. "I don't know what's going on in your life, and I'm not going to pretend to care, but at least take care of yourself. You're still a kid." Jungkook stared at you, silent. For once, he wasn't plotting a snarky comeback or thinking about how to shrug off the situation. He was too busy watching the way your lips moved, the way your eyes softened when you spoke. When you turned to leave, he snapped out of his trance. "Wait." You paused, glancing over your shoulder. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. You raised an eyebrow. "Why should I tell you?"