ɪɴᴋᴇᴅ ʙy ᴀ ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ ᴍᴀɴ ( ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ꜰꜰ )

chap 29

Jungkook

11 years later

"You're doing well, son." Jamie grits his teeth as he looks over at me, putting his all into the next jab. The junior heavy bag swings at his strikes, making whining noises. He's turning into a crazed little beast, the same way I was when I was a kid, then a young man.

The bell goes off, and Jamie hits it one more time, grinning.

He's got my black hair...the black it was before experience turned it little gray. He's broad too, with wide shoulders, and perceptive and alert eyes.

"Thanks, Dad," he says.

"Just remember your hands. It's the most basic thing.
Sometimes it will seem annoying but always bring them back to your face. Always protect yourself."

Jamie nods, looking at me with so much grit and determination I could roar.

We turn when we hear someone approach.Its Y/n, Emily standing at her side, or more accurately over her. Our daughter has grown massively since hitting her teenage years, standing a head above her mother but still with her kind smile and her bright eyes.

And with her amazing singing voice. She won a talent show last month and the whole family was cheering.

"Dinner soon, boys," Y/n says.

My gaze snaps to her outfit. Its evening, work forgotten,
and she's wearing a casual dress with her apron over her front. Her hair is messy and spills down to her shoulders,
making me want to run my hands through it.

She always looks so maternal, so sexy, and so loving at the same time.

"Mommy, I did good. Didn't I, Dad?" One of Jamie's quirks is calling Y/n Mommy while calling me just Dad. It's like the little soldier thinks he needs to be tougher with me, more capable, and he lives up to that challenge. He's an incredible kid.

I love him so much, all my children so much, sometimes it's difficult to even process the emotion.

"Amazing, son," I say seriously.

"Go and help your sister set the table," Y/n says, smiling at Jamie.

"Yeah, come on, you little punching machine," Emily says.

"Hey, I'm not little."

Y/n walks into the room. Behind her, the gym door frames the garden, the long lawn leading to the house.It's the house where this all started, the safe house we made our home, but we've extended it several times over the years.

She loops her arms around my shoulders, smiling up at me. She's so much more beautiful every single day, her eyes getting more emotional, and her love easier to read.

"The tattoo's starting to fade," she murmurs.

"Wait, the tattoo?" I kneel down and she raises her foot, letting me hold her ankle as I study the bird.

It's the bird I first inked into her skin.

It's the bird that showed my claim on her, a mark on her flesh that screamed mine. She belonged to me, always, after I inked her flesh.

"You're right."

"I want you to redo it," she whispers. "It will be like last time. Like the first time. It will show us how far we've come."

I stand, leaning down and kissing her on the lips.

She returns the kiss, moaning softly as our mouths open and our tongues find each other.

"Okay, ew," Emily says from the door.

Y/n and I break apart, laughing.

Emily tosses her head and glares at us, but there's love in the gesture, love marking every single part of all of us. We live a blessed life with so much warmth.

"Aunt Izzy says you better hurry your butts up, or she's going to have to take over in the kitchen. And she said you don't want her to take over because it will be a complete disaster. Oh, and she also said she's happy to try anyway."

Y/n giggles, looking over at me.

I shrug, smiling. "It sounds like Izzy."

"We better get going." I take her hand, meeting her eye.

I love you, we both say, wordlessly, silently.

Together, we leave the room, walking hand in hand.

It's like the tattoo. It's like we're flying away.

But there's nowhere to go.

We're right where we belong.

💋
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