TWISTED LOVE JEON JUNGKOOK X (READER) {Complete}

Y/N 🔞

"It's not safe."

Bridget straightened to her full height of five feet nine inches, fixing the dark-haired man with a frosty stare - a bold move considering her royal status and his position as her bodyguard. Although Rhys Larsen wasn't Booth, this became evident within his first week in Hazelburg, where he had taken over Booth's security responsibilities.

The departure of Booth had been marked by a lavish farewell at The Crypt, along with earnest hopes that Bridget's new guardian would share Booth's amicable nature.

Unfortunately, our prayers went unanswered.

Rhys exuded an aura of gruffness, surliness, and arrogance. He infuriated Bridget – which was notable since she was known for her composure. Yet, during the past week, she had teetered on the brink of shouting multiple times. The sight was so startling that I nearly let my camera slip from my hands.

"Fall Fest is an esteemed tradition," she proclaimed with authority. "I have participated every year for the last three years and have no intention of breaking this streak now."

Rhys's steel-gray gaze glinted sharply. Although a few years Booth's junior—in his early thirties—his thick, raven-black hair, eyes the shade of storm clouds, and an imposing, muscular build that overshadowed even Bridget's tall elegance, heels included, set him apart. A dark five o'clock shadow graced his chin, and a small but stark scar cut across his left eyebrow. Without the blemish, he would have been strikingly handsome; with it, he was no less captivating but carried an air of peril.

An asset for a bodyguard, I mused.

"The issue is crowd control," he stated, his voice resonating deeply in the confines of the car. His words carried weight even as Bridget's subordinate.

"Too many attendees in too confined a space."

We—Stella, Jules, and I—opted for silence as Bridget returned his gaze defiantly. "It's a college event. Crowds are inevitable, and I have faced none such problems prior. Besides, most don't even recognize me."

"It takes only one encounter," Rhys retorted calmly. "One glance tells me the festival exceeds capacity limits."

"Absurd. I'm not stepping into combat territory; it's less crowded than any sporting event. And those pose no issues for my attendance."

"Security protocols and layouts at athletic events are—"

"Stop." Bridget raised her hand firmly. "I won't be confined like some fairytale damsel during my last year of college. I am going; you can either accompany me or wait in the car." She stepped out without another look.

Rhys may have bristled at her leave-taking, but he was right behind her in an instant, his sharp eyes ceaselessly scanning for potential threats.

Rushing in their wake were Jules, Stella, and myself.

Fall Fest was the highlight of our academic calendar—a time when local enterprises showcased wares at student-friendly prices: indulgent hot chocolate and cider-spiced donuts complicit in ushering in autumn; pies laden with pumpkin and savory pulled-pork sandwiches claimed their spots under the festooned booths. Amid classic festivities like apple bobbing and tarot readings were tailgating convivialities where both students and alumni revelled in collegiate camaraderie.

Rhys was correct—there were more attendees at the festival than anticipated, but it paled in comparison to the spring break parties of our past. While I understood his concerns, I concurred with Bridget that he might be slightly overreacting.