Jungkook stood outside YN’s room, his knuckles tapping her door softly.

“YN?” he said, voice low.

Silence.

Just when he thought of knocking again, his phone buzzed.

A message. From her.

YN: I need pads.

He blinked.

Read it again.

Frowned.

“Pads?” he muttered under his breath.

The others looked at him curiously as he turned around.

“She texted me…” he mumbled.

“…she said she needs pads.”

A second of pure silence.

Then—

“Shit,” Jin said, immediately standing up like an activated emergency button.

“She’s on her period.”

“Oh.” Jimin blinked.

“OHHHH.” Taehyung said it like a revelation.

“Pads like...the kind you put on wounds?” Hoseok asked, genuinely confused.

Jin facepalmed.

“No, not battle wounds, morons—period pads! Menstrual pads! She’s on her cycle.”

Jungkook frowned deeper, annoyed with himself.

He didn’t know she was going through this alone.

And worse, she’d messaged him—which meant she was really trying hard to ask.

“What do we do?” Jungkook asked.

Jin was already at the kitchen counter scribbling on a notepad.

“We help her, what the hell else do you think?! Listen, she’s probably in pain, tired, and emotionally wrecked right now.”

He slapped the list on the table.

Pads

Tampons

Heating pad

Chocolate

Ice cream

Painkillers

Chips

Brownies

A soft blanket if you see a cute one

“Jungkook, Jimin, Taehyung—you three go to the store. Take the car, go fast, don’t be weird, and don’t come back without everything on this list.”

“Why us?” Taehyung whined.

“Because you three have no idea how periods work. This is your damn lesson.”

“It’s like a secret female mission,” Jimin whispered to Taehyung.

The Period Rescue Squad - Supermarket Chaos

They entered the women’s care aisle like it was enemy territory.

Jungkook held the list.

Jimin held the basket.

Taehyung just looked terrified of the wall full of pads and tampons.

“W-What size do we get?” Jimin whispered.

“Why do they have wings?” Taehyung blinked.

“Why are there brands?! Why do some say ultra-night?! Is there a night mode?!”

Jungkook finally snapped, pointing at a brand.

“Just grab one of each and move on. We’re not here to write a review.”

They fought over chocolate bars next.

And then over which ice cream flavor was best for “emotional recovery.”

And then Taehyung picked a fuzzy blanket with tiny cartoon wolves on it, declaring it was “comfort certified.”

Back at Home

Jin and Suga were busy in the kitchen.

The smell of rich broth, soft rice, and ginger soup filled the house.

“Something warm for her stomach. Easy to digest,” Jin said, stirring.

Suga nodded, quietly setting a tray.

“And spicy enough to remind her she's alive.”

Outside YN’s Room Again

Jungkook knocked again—this time with bags in both hands and eyes full of intent.

“YN,” he said softly.

“We’re leaving the things outside your door. Don’t push yourself, but if you need anything else… we're here.”

He paused.

“I’m here.”

The door cracked open an inch.

A small, tired voice replied,

“…thank you.”

It started with the slam of a door.

Jungkook had just walked into the living room with a towel around his neck from the gym when he saw YN.

Storming down the hallway.

In a blanket.

Like a furious burrito of death.

“Why is no one taking care of Annie’s hair?!” she barked suddenly, glaring at Taehyung, who was innocently watching cartoons with her on the couch.

“Wha—her hair’s fine, look—” Taehyung started.

“It’s frizzy! She’ll get breakage if you don’t detangle it right.”

She snatched the comb from his hand and plopped down beside Annie, who giggled as YN gently (but aggressively) started combing her hair.

Everyone froze.

Taehyung blinked.

“Is she… is she yelling at me nicely?

Jimin entered the room with popcorn, only to flinch when YN snapped,

“I SAID NO SALT! WHY DO YOU WANT MY KIDNEYS TO DIE?!”

“...you didn’t say anything?” Jimin whispered, hiding behind Jungkook.

“WELL I’M SAYING IT NOW.”

Later, during a strategy meeting about tracking down Wolf Syndicate activity, Namjoon began his usual calm analysis when YN suddenly interrupted.

“Why the hell is everything about logic with you, Namjoon?”

He blinked.

“Because I’m the strategist?”

“Well maybe I feel like logic is not the answer today.”

She sniffed.

Her eyes got glossy.

“Also, why do we always sit in a circle? Can’t we try a square? Or like… a heart shape?!”

Namjoon slowly slid his pen across the table to Jin.

“She’s broken protocol.”

“She’s on her period,” Jin whispered back, sipping tea.

“Protocol doesn’t apply.”

He found her standing in the garden at night, staring at the sky like it had insulted her.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

“No,” she snapped.

He waited.

“The moon looks so dumb tonight.”

Jungkook blinked.

“The... moon?”

“Yeah, it’s too round. Like it's mocking me. Just like you all do when I’m bleeding and dying in silence.”

“…we bought you brownies.”

“YOU THINK BROWNIES FIX EVERYTHING?! …okay maybe a little,” she mumbled.

Then she turned to him with teary eyes.

“Do you even like me, Jeon Jungkook? Or am I just some mission girl with a gun and bad luck?!”

“…I—what?” Jungkook looked like someone had unplugged his brain.

Jimin whispered to Tae that night:

“She just called me an emotionally unstable golden retriever...and then hugged me?”

Taehyung, nursing a scratch on his cheek from when he accidentally touched her chocolate bar, sighed.

“I think she tried to cry and kill me in the same sentence.”

Suga snorted from the corner.

“She's not scary. She's just… battling the hormonal apocalypse.”

“With ninja reflexes,” Hobi added.

“And mood swings that kill.”

Annie sat in the middle of the chaos, contentedly chewing on a cookie.

She looked up at all the grown men tiptoeing around YN like she was a bomb about to go off.

Then calmly declared:

“You’re all dumb. She just wants cuddles.”

They blinked at her.

Jungkook scratched his head.

“…Cuddles?”

“Yup,” Annie nodded.

“But she’ll never say it. Just wrap her in a blanket and hold her until she stops yelling.”

They all stared at each other.

And then at the blanket-wrapped tigeress currently yelling at the microwave for being “too slow.”

Challenge accepted.

“We draw straws,” Taehyung whispered, holding a bunch of chopsticks.

“This is stupid,” Jungkook muttered, arms crossed.

“So go in then, oh fearless mafia king,” Jimin smirked.

“We dare you to wrap her up and not come back with a black eye.”

“She’s not a rabid raccoon,” Jin scolded, though even he kept a respectful ten-foot distance from YN.

They all peered down the hallway like a bunch of frightened interns peeking into the CEO’s office on a bad day.

YN sat curled up on the couch in her hoodie, hood over her head, knees to her chest. A hot water bottle was under her sweater. Chocolate wrappers surrounded her like battle scars. Her eyes were red, not from crying, but pure hormonal frustration.

Then—

A knock.

She didn’t respond.

The door creaked open. Jungkook walked in.

She glared at him.

“I’m not in the mood for training, Jeon.”

He cleared his throat.

“It’s not that.”

He held up a blanket like a peace offering.

“…You’re cold.”

She blinked.

Her eyebrow raised.

“I’m always cold.”

“Right. I know.” He hesitated.

“Can I… sit?”

Silence.

Then she muttered, “Whatever.”

He sat. One foot of space between them.

Then two. Then—

He scooted closer.

She looked at him with an expression that said one wrong move and I break your ribs.

But she didn’t push him away.

---

“Look,” he finally said.

“I know you hate asking for help. You’d rather bleed out quietly than admit you need something.”

She said nothing.

“And I suck at this emotional shit.”

Still nothing.

“But Annie told us…” he scratched the back of his neck, “…you wanted cuddles.”

A pause.

Then—

“…I never said that.” Her voice was flat.

But her hoodie dropped slightly, revealing her flushed cheeks.

“So you’re saying I should go?”

“…Shut up,” she muttered, inching slightly toward him.

That was all the permission he needed.

He pulled the blanket over both of them, letting her shift beside him. For a moment, it was stiff, awkward—until she finally relaxed and let her head drop to his shoulder.

His heart skipped.

And she whispered something barely audible:

“Don’t make this weird tomorrow.”

“Too late.”

She smacked his chest lightly, but stayed there.

The Next Morning

She came down to breakfast wearing the same hoodie.

Jungkook was beside her.

The boys were already seated. The moment they saw them enter together, Jin dropped his spoon.

Taehyung dramatically covered Annie’s eyes.

Jimin gasped and whispered, “He survived?”

Jungkook just smirked.

YN walked past them, sat down, took a bite of toast, and said:

“I was cold.”

Everyone nodded in mock seriousness.

“Of course.”

“Naturally.”

“Totally understandable,” Jin coughed.

The clinking of spoons. The sound of Annie humming softly. A few lazy birds chirping outside the open window. Morning sunlight filtered into the kitchen, casting warm gold hues on everyone’s faces.

YN sat at the head of the table, hoodie still swallowed around her, legs curled beneath her. No one dared comment on how she didn’t snap at anyone today. Or how Jungkook silently passed her the sugar before she even asked.

They were halfway through breakfast—murmured conversations, Jin reminding Annie to chew slowly—when a soft voice broke the rhythm.

YN.

“It’s always been hard,” she said.

Everyone paused.

Her eyes were on her plate, but her mind was far away.

“Every girl has a mom to talk about periods… pain… how to deal with the days when your body feels like it’s falling apart.”

Her voice didn’t waver, but it was low. Raw.

“I didn’t. I never had that. My aunt tried—God, she tried—but she wasn’t my mother. And she couldn’t understand me. Not really.”

The table was silent.

“I was just a scared kid bleeding in a bathroom, curled up in pain, and pretending it didn’t hurt.”

Her hand gripped the spoon tightly.

“No one noticed. No one asked. I used to cry quietly in the corner because that’s the only way I knew to survive.”

Jin’s spoon slowly set down. His eyes were already glassy.

Jimin reached across the table, barely brushing his fingers over hers.

“You don’t have to cry quietly anymore,” he whispered.

Taehyung nodded, unusually solemn.

“We’re here. And we’re listening, YN.”

Namjoon leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“You don’t need to hide behind strength when you’re hurting. That strength is in this—opening up. That’s power, too.”

Suga gave her the softest look she’d ever seen from him.

“You’re not alone. Not in this house. Not with us.”

Annie shuffled from her seat, climbed onto YN’s lap, and hugged her tightly.

YN froze for a moment—then slowly, like her body was relearning how, she wrapped her arms around the little girl.

Her hoodie hid her face. But a single tear dropped to Annie’s back.

Jungkook didn't say anything. He didn’t need to.

He simply stood, came around the table, and placed a gentle hand on her back—his warmth steady, silent.

For once, she didn’t push anyone away.

And in that moment, she wasn’t the cold, calculating fighter of Black Serpent.

She was just a girl who had finally been heard.

To be continued...