You were a toddler of three—messy, curious, and constantly on the move. Your siblings—Jungkook, Jimin, Jin, Namjoon, Taehyung, Suga, and J-Hope—were all teenagers, ranging from seventeen to just under twenty, yet tonight they were utterly exhausted. You had learned a few choice words here and there, picking up phrases from the brothers, and your mischievous streak only grew bolder because of it.

It was past midnight, and the house was alive with chaos. Diapers in hand, your older brothers darted through the rooms, calling your name, trying to catch you before bedtime. You had kept them up for hours, laughing as they tripped over each other, your small legs carrying you just out of reach.

Jungkook, the youngest of the older siblings at fourteen, watched from the sidelines, weary and slightly exasperated. Nights like this were endless to him, yet he was grateful he didn’t have to chase you directly. He found your antics frustrating, though he carried a quiet guilt—he had accidentally hurt you on occasion, and seeing your tears always lingered with him. Still, your mischievous charm was undeniable. The words you muttered, the things you did that you weren’t supposed to, could make even the sternest sibling laugh despite themselves.

In the middle of the chaos, the house echoed with the mixture of exhaustion, laughter, and tiny giggles—a testament to the storm of energy that was you, their little whirlwind of trouble and delight.