it’s not exactly a foreign concept for best friend!namjoon to be the person you run to when things suddenly go south.
in the years that the both of you have been friends, he thinks that he might even be offended if the first person that comes into your mind after something shitty happens to you would be anyone but him (with the exception of your family and other close friends, of course).
for as long as he could remember, the both of you have always been the other’s ‘top call’, a term you used to describe him once when he playfully complained about being summoned in the dead of the night just because you were hungry and in need of someone to eat with.
however, since you got yourself in a serious relationship—the most serious one yet ever after your last one in college—namjoon no longer expected it anymore to be the person that had the ‘top call’ title in your list of contacts.
he can’t lie. the reality of it hurt for a while, but he wasn’t salty despite the inevitability of it.
he was only the best friend, after all. just the best friend. and he should have always been prepared for the day another man sweeps you off your feet and gains the best of your affection, setting namjoon aside who, on the other hand, you only saw as your brother.
nonetheless, surprisingly, there were still instances when he managed to place himself first on the list again.
such instances included having a fight with your boyfriend—as you did a few hours ago, when you rang him up, crying and asking if you could sleep at his place for the night since you just didn’t know where to go—and namjoon naturally agreed.
after twenty minutes, he welcomed you into his apartment, hugging you and asking what went wrong.
“the bastard cheated on me,” you said, sniffling. “for months now. he’s been having an affair with his co-worker.”
namjoon sighed then, embracing you and comforting you with his reassuring words, making sure that you still knew what you were truly worth despite the horrible experience.
once you were tired and drained from sobbing, from cursing your former lover’s name and cursing the heavens too for your poor luck in love, you asked if you could start preparing for bed, in which he offered his own bedroom for you to use that you immediately declined to, claiming that you didn’t want to burden him further by stealing the thing that can let him sleep peacefully tonight.
but namjoon never found himself sleeping peacefully like you assumed—not when he knew you were on his couch and was heartbroken as hell.
in a last attempt to offer his comfy mattress to you if ever he catches you still awake from the living room, he went out and tiptoed his way to the said area, disappointment washing his face when he found you already fast asleep unlike he was. you were probably really exhausted emotionally and physically to doze off that fast anyways; he should have known better than to think otherwise.
with faint footsteps, he approached you and sighed, the blanket previously covering your body laying on the carpeted floor beside you now, probably because of your stirring. namjoon crouched down and draped it around you again upon the discovery, tucking you in and caressing the top of your head with a frown before he bravely kissed your forehead, his lips lingering for three seconds until he turned away and went back to his room.
it was only when the sound of the door tightly closing did you finally allow yourself to open your eyes and stare at his door, thinking for the first time ever what it would have been like if you just fell in love with a good man like your best friend.
note. once in a blue moon proof of life check! lmao typical of me to forget that i had a bunch of blurbs meant to republish but life was not life-ing good and i got too lazy even to make simple headers >.<
summary | lucid dreams featuring BTS | ❛ the Kim Namjoon one ❜
pairing | namjoon x f!reader
elements | kissing; attraction; fantasy; soft; humour; romantic; lucid dream
word count | 1.4k
author's note | This is a mini-series featuring lucid dreams about these lovely guys that was actually inspired by Tae’s interest in lucid dreams. I’ll be posting this member by member, from eldest to youngest, over the next few days. It's just a bit of light escapism fun that I wrote primarily to keep in the writing frame of mind between my WIPs, and I hope you'll enjoy it. As ever, please excuse any errors I may have overlooked.
•𓂃𝜗𝜚 bts masterlists ( ❛ p a r t • o n e ❜ ) | ❛ p a r t • t w o ❜ )
•𓂃𝜗𝜚 lucid dreams masterlist | ( ❛ bts taglist ❜ )
You realise you're dreaming because every door opens onto the same room. You’ve tested six of them and each time there was the same long table. The same scattered sheets of paper, the same vase of white lilies and the exact same afternoon sunlight. The only thing that changes is the books.
"What are you hoping will happen?" Namjoon sits on the edge of the table, leafing through a thick book that appears to have no title.
"I was hoping for a different room."
"You've already found it,” he says, closing the book. "It changes every time you look away."
You scrunch up your face. “Why on earth would it do that?” you say dubiously. “Surely it wouldn’t.”
He points behind you. "Look for yourself." You follow the direction of his finger to see that the lilies had become branches of blossom. “I told you,” he says simply.
"You could've warned me."
"I wanted to see your face."
"You must have enjoyed that."
"Maybe a little,” he admits, grinning.
"You’re not even going to deny it?"
He shakes his head. "The evidence was overwhelming."
He slips off the table and wanders past you, studying the room with the fascination of someone visiting somewhere memorable. "I like this dream,” he announces.
"Really?"
"It rewards paying attention."
He stops in front of one of the windows, where outside you can see that it is raining. There isn’t any landscape, and it’s as if the world beyond the glass hasn't been painted yet.
Namjoon raps his fingers across the pane lightly, and suddenly the rain froze. Every drop hung in place like tiny beads of crystal.
"That's−," You search for the word. "Unsettling."
"I was going to say beautiful."
"You would."
He smiled. "We're both right."
You walk over to the shelves lining one wall. Every single book carries your name. "I don't like this,” you say, unused to being the centre of attention this way.
"Have you opened one already?" Namjoon asks.
"No."
"You should."
"I don't think I want to."
“Trust me,” he says, reaching for one before you can protest.
When he opens it, the pages are covered in sketches which don’t appear to be drawings but seem more like a selection of moments. The shape of your laugh, the way your hands move when you explain something enthusiastically and the tiny crease between your brows when you were concentrating.
They aren’t things someone could photograph, but more things someone had noticed. You stare at him. "You drew these?"
"I can't draw,” he tells you.
"That's true."
"Thank you."
"That wasn't an insult."
"It was an accurate assessment."
He turns another page. "This one isn't even pretending to look like you."
The sketch had somehow captured exactly how you'd looked one evening without resembling your face at all.
"I don't understand,” he says.
"Neither do I," you mutter.
He looks delighted by that. "Dreams are generous, they don't require explanations,” he explains, closing the book carefully. "I spend so much time trying to understand things."
"But you don’t understand this?"
"I don’t feel like I need to,” he replies, looking around. “Here I can just experience them.”
A chair nearby becomes a staircase, but you don’t comment. You climb it determinedly, but it leads nowhere except to a patch of sunlight suspended in mid-air.
Namjoon follows, hands in his pockets. "I used to think intelligence meant having answers,” he states. “But now, I think it’s asking better questions.”
You sit on the warm patch of light, which holds your weight easily. This was some dreamscape.
"Go on then,” you begin. “Ask me a better question.”
Namjoon thinks for a moment. "What does peace feel like?" he asks eventually.
Truthfully, you had been expecting something more complicated from him and the simplicity of his question catches you off guard.
You looked around the strange room. “It feels like not needing to impress anyone."
"I like that."
"What about you?"
He smiles to himself. "It feels like being understood before you've explained."
Your eyes meet, full of something left unspoken in the moment. Then a paper aeroplane drifts lazily across the room and lands squarely on Namjoon's shoulder. He doesn’t even appear to notice, and you chuckle lightly.
"You've got a−,” you venture.
"What?” he says, looking around.
"No, don't move,” you tell him, but it’s too late as he’s already moving to turn.
The paper aeroplane slides off his shoulder, bounces off his elbow and somehow lands perfectly inside a teacup. Namjoon stares at it. "I don't even know how I contributed to that."
"You didn't."
He laughs. "I have an impressive relationship with gravity."
"More like you have an impressive relationship with furniture."
"I’ve been known to say sorry to a chair,” he admits. “But it wasn't entirely my fault."
"I've met the chair,” you say, playing along.
"It was aggressive."
You burst out into a fit of giggles at the ridiculousness of this conversation. "I can't believe you're blaming the chair."
"It knew what it did."
The room echoes softly with your laughter, and Namjoon watches you with an expression that gradually loses all traces of amusement.
You notice, your laughter waning a little as you blush under his scrutiny. "What?"
"I was trying to remember the sound of that,” he answers.
"My laugh?"
He nods. "I always think I'll remember it exactly, but−.”
"You don't?"
"I remember how it makes me feel,” he says, almost absent-mindedly. "But the sound itself slips away."
You stand up. "You think too much."
"One of my many flaws, I know."
"You analyse beautiful things until they become theories."
"That’s also true."
"You don't have to understand everything, you know,” you tell him gently.
"I keep forgetting that."
You move closer to him. "So I'll remind you."
"Repeatedly?"
"As often as necessary."
"I appreciate your commitment,” he smiles. “It’s commendable.”
There’s only a breath between you now and the room starts to change again. The walls slowly dissolve into a forest of impossibly tall paper trees, their leaves covered in handwritten sentences that rustle instead of whisper.
"I've been wondering this whole dream whether we're inside my mind or yours,” Namjoon says.
"Does it matter?"
He stares at you in contemplation for a long minute. "No,” he replies finally. “I guess it doesn't."
His hand finds yours, his skin warm against you. "I've been trying to think of something memorable to say,” he tells you. "I had three possibilities."
"You made a list?"
"Only a mental list,” he says shyly. “But I rejected all of them.”
"Why?" you ask curiously.
"They sounded written, and I would rather be honest." His gaze softens and your heartbeat quickens. "When I'm with you−.” He laughs quietly at himself. "I stop trying to be interesting."
"Is that supposed to be romantic?" you ask, but you’re smiling.
"It means that I don't feel like I have to earn your attention."
"You never did."
The certainty in your voice seems to settle something inside him. He lifts a hand, stroking his fingertips lightly along your jaw, almost as if he is committing the shape of your face to memory.
"You make the world quieter,” he whispers tenderly.
"So do you."
He looks into your eyes, pinning you with a deep gaze. The paper leaves overhead drift loose, circling around you like slow snowfall.
"I've got one more question,” he tells you gently.
“Sure −go ahead."
"Would it ruin the moment if I admitted I've been thinking about kissing you for the last ten minutes?"
"Only ten?" you smile, blushing harder now.
Namjoon laughs, warm and slightly embarrassed. "I was hoping you'd say that."
But there is no hesitation as he dips his head, his lips covering yours in a deep, unhurried kiss, thoughtful in the way everything he did seemed to be. Yet beneath it was unmistakable longing, as though he'd finally stopped analysing the feeling and simply allowed himself to have it.
"I was wrong,” he tells you when you part. He brushes one last, feather-light kiss against the corner of your mouth. "Not every beautiful thing needs explaining."
The paper forest sighs around you, and one by one, the handwritten leaves detach and float away, carrying every sentence with them until there are no words left at all. There’s only quiet.
Neither you nor Namjoon try to fill it as your lips meet again.
summary | lucid dreams featuring BTS | ❛ the Jung Hoseok one ❜
pairing | hobi/j-hope x f!reader
elements | kissing; attraction; fantasy; soft; humour; romantic; lucid dream
word count | 2.2k
author's note | This is a mini-series featuring lucid dreams about these lovely guys that was actually inspired by Tae’s interest in lucid dreams. I’ll be posting this member by member, from eldest to youngest, over the next few days. It's just a bit of light escapism fun that I wrote primarily to keep in the writing frame of mind between my WIPs, and I hope you'll enjoy it. As ever, please excuse any errors I may have overlooked.
•𓂃𝜗𝜚 bts masterlists ( ❛ p a r t • o n e ❜ ) | ❛ p a r t • t w o ❜ )
• 𓂃𝜗𝜚 lucid dreams masterlist 𓂃𝜗𝜚 ( ❛ bts taglist ❜ )
You pause mid-laugh, and the dream you’re in tries to stop as you freeze instantly. Everything goes still; the air, the colours, and even the feeling of motion that rides up your chest.
"You can't do that,” came Hobi’s voice came from just behind you.
When you turn, he’s already tugging you forward gently by the hand. "Can’t do what?" you ask.
"You can’t just stop."
You shake your head in confusion. "I wasn't trying to−."
"I think you were thinking about stopping,” Hobi explains patiently.
You frown. "That can’t be a thing."
Hobi shrugs. "Looks like it is here." He glances around as if checking whether he can find some confirmation that this world agrees with him but finds nothing giving, which apparently was confirmation enough.
"Come on,” he says enthusiastically.
"Where?"
"I don’t know −anywhere. We should explore."
"That's quite a vague answer,” you tell him.
"It's the only one I’ve got." He smiles, and everything around you immediately softens back into place as if one of his smiles was all it took for every wrong to right itself.
The ground beneath your feet suddenly shifts into a long, winding corridor made of moving light. It only stays solid while you walk, and behind you it fades away.
"What happens if I stop again?" you venture.
"It disappears."
"That sounds a little… inconvenient."
"It is,” Hobi replies, squeezing your hand in his. "But it’s also kind of perfect."
You shoot him a dubious look. "I don’t see how that would be perfect."
"If we stop moving, then nothing gets to stay,” he says. "So don't make me lose the floor please, I kind of like this one.”
You giggle and the corridor immediately brightens.
"I think this place reacts to laughter I think,” Hobi observes, eyes widening in fascination. He points vaguely at the way the light had warmed. “Do that again −laugh.”
You let out a small laugh and watch as the corridor deepens in colour. You nod in approval. "You’re right, I think it does,” you say.
"It likes you being happy,” Hobi declares.
You scrunch your face up. "That seems very specific."
"Let’s try it,” Hobi says, spinning on his heel to test it again.
The corridor widens in response, as if amused. You start wondering what kind of dream you had conjured up, and whether you may have had one too many glasses of wine earlier.
"Okay," Hobi said slowly. "I think this dream is slightly obsessed with you."
You laugh. "I don’t see how, but if you’re right, then that might be a problem I don’t need.”
"Looks like it's already decided."
You grin despite yourself. "You know what I think, I think you’re enjoying this way too much."
"And why not?” he beams, pulling you gently beside him and you both start walking faster.
The corridor lengthens and brightens, and it feels less like moving through empty space and more as if space was being created for you. When you reach the end, a room appears. It isn’t open, but more as if it was being formed in front of you. Walls erect from the rhythm of your footsteps, and as you venture forward, the floor settles only when your feet touch it.
"Don't stop," Hobi reminds softly.
"I wasn't planning to."
He releases your hand only to tap your shoulder lightly, guiding you into a slow turn. You nearly collide with him, but he catches you immediately, as effortlessly as if it were instinctive rather than action.
"You look like you’re overthinking something,” Hobi tells you.
"Maybe," you admit.
"You see, I’m right again!" he exclaims with a huge grin which is so contagious you grin along with him. “I fixed it too, you smiled!’
"Fixed what?”
"Look around."
The room responds again, softening at the edges. Some of the walls become translucent, revealing other versions of the same space, each one slightly brighter, slightly softer, depending on how much you were laughing.
"So it isn’t just movement,” you think out loud. “It changes depending on us.”
Hobi nods. "That's what I said."
"You said it was obsessed with me."
"Well, it is."
"You’re very casual about that."
"I trust you."
His answer is so immediate you didn't know what to do with it. Hobi doesn’t seem to either, judging by the way he chuckles sheepishly after saying it. "Anyway," he adds quickly, "Let’s keep moving."
You raise an eyebrow. "Or what?"
He tilts his head toward the edges of the room, where everything was already beginning to fade slightly. "Or it might forget us."
You start walking again and the space around you brightens instantly.
"There we go," he says, satisfied.
"You sound like you're training it."
"Maybe I am."
"You can't train a dream,” you scoff incredulously.
"You absolutely can,” he insists.
"That's not very reassuring,” you tell him.
"It should be.”
You pass through another shifting threshold. This time it opens into something that resembles an open courtyard, but the moment you slow down, the stone beneath your feet softens into water.
You jolt slightly and Hobi catches your wrist instantly. “Careful.”
"You didn't mention water.”
"It likes surprises."
"You didn't mention that either."
"I thought it was obvious."
"It is most definitely not obvious,” you say firmly.
The water steadies again the moment you both resume walking.
"It only reacts when you're still," Hobi explains.
"Great. Punished for keeping still.”
"I would probably say it's more like encouraging movement,” Hobi says thoughtfully.
"That's a rather generous interpretation,” you quip.
"Well, that’s what I think.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling again. The courtyard stretches as you move through it, revealing more pathways ahead, each one again forming only as you approach.
Hobi glances at you sideways. "You know what's funny?" he asks. “You relax faster when you're not overthinking."
"How do you know that?”
“I just do.”
You open your mouth to try some witty protest, but you can’t think of anything, so you just stay quiet. "How annoying,” you mutter to yourself.
"I'll take that as confirmation,” Hobi concludes.
The space around you shifts again, the air quieting. In front of you, there’s a long, suspended bridge made of light and air, stretching over nothing visible. It exists only under your feet as you and Hobi cross together.
Below you, there is no drop or sky, only openness.
"You okay?" Hobi asks.
"Is something going to happen?” you counter.
"I hope not." He glances at your hand. "I just wanted to check on you. This isn’t exactly normal."
You walk in silence for a while before you have a thought. “I think I get it now," you announce. “This place.”
Hobi looks at you curiously, waiting for you to elaborate.
"It doesn't want us to stop because if we stop, it loses us,” you say.
"Not just the floor,” Hobi adds, nodding slowly in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right.”
You steal a quick look at him. "Are you okay with that?"
Hobi considers it for a moment, then smiles. “Honestly,” he begins, “I think some things only exist while they’re happening.”
You look ahead at the bridge forming itself step by step. "That sounds sad."
"It would be,” he says. "If it ended. But it doesn't have to."
The bridge opens into a wide field made entirely of light and moving air, which stabilises when you both step into it. Hobi slows down for the first time to match your pace.
"I think the dream likes you more than it likes me,” he states quietly.
"You literally trained it."
He laughs. "I know, but it still reacts more when you laugh."
"I think it likes both of us."
"Maybe,” he says slowly. “But I’m still going to take credit for it.”
"I expected nothing less."
He stops but only briefly and the ground flickers. Both of you immediately resume walking, laughing under your breath.
"Okay," he says, amused. "It’s definitely sensitive."
"You made it nervous,” you chide playfully.
"It respects me,” he tells you.
"It fears you,” you say.
"That's basically respect."
You laugh harder, and the light around you deepens like sunrise. Hobi’s eyes linger on you longer than before as he slows down.
"This dream is doing a great job,” he says, smiling softly. “Of making sure you don’t forget how it feels to be here.”
Your steps slow instinctively to match his and the ground flickers up again, prompting you both to resume movement as you laugh at the timing. This place doesn’t miss a beat.
"I know, I know!” you exclaim. “Don't stop.”
You are both smiling now.
"If we stop, it thinks we’ve gone" he adds. “Crazy place.”
"Have we gone yet?" you ask.
He stares at you with bright eyes full of unshaken certainty. “Not yet.”
The dream stretches ahead of you, endlessly forming itself with every step, neither of you trying to decide where it would end because none of you wanted it to.
You walk on for what might have been minutes or hours, the dream had stopped measuring time long ago. The path still unfolded beneath your feet, effortless now, no longer demanding anything from either of you.
"I've been thinking,” Hobi ventures tentatively.
"Uh-oh, that sounds dangerous,” you tease.
"It usually is,” he chuckles. "I think we've been wrong about this dream."
You look down at the glowing path. "I thought we had it figured out."
"So did I,” he says. “I kept saying it needed us to move.”
"It did."
"Yeah, but I don't think that's the most important part." The light beneath your feet shimmers softly. "It wasn't trying to stop us standing still." Hobi looks right at you. “It was trying to stop us from standing alone.”
You feel your heart glowing warmly as his words settle deep inside you before you can even try to understand why. Without thinking, your fingers found his, and even though you had held hands already several times already during the dream, something felt different now. You realise that you didn’t need to keep the path alive, you wanted to.
Hobi takes in your joined hands and smiles. "I think we’ve solved it now."
"You sound very pleased."
"I usually am. I’m me.”
You burst out laughing and he points at you triumphantly. "I knew I could get one more!”
"You planned that."
"I absolutely hoped."
The path ahead gradually became less bright, softening like morning beginning far away. Hobi reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair back from your face before the breeze can steal it again. The movement was so natural it surprises you.
"You've been smiling this whole time,” Hobi tells you.
"Have I?"
"Mm-hm."
"I think that's your fault."
"I'll take full responsibility,” he says with that sunshine smile. "It'd be my favourite thing I've ever been blamed for."
"You always make everyone else feel lighter."
His smile lingers, but it grows quieter. "I try."
"What about you?"
He blinks. "What about me?"
"Who makes sure you're smiling?"
He doesn’t answer immediately as he watches the path continue to unfold. "I forget to check sometimes,” he tells you, his voice barely above a whisper. “But−“ He turns back to you. "I don't think I have to right now."
You both get closer, and the path beneath you stops moving but none of you notice.
"Were you right?" you ask softly. “About the dream.”
He looks down and sees that the light beneath your feet hasn't disappeared. A slow smile spread across his face. "I knew it,” he says. “It finally realised that we weren’t going anywhere.” He laughs brightly, a sound that makes you smile again instinctively.
Hobi looks at you with unmistakable fondness. "There’s my favourite smile,” he says, his hand slipping to your waist to rest there as if it had always belonged there.
He leans in slightly. "I spent this whole dream trying to keep us moving,” he tells you. “But I think we’ve earned a break. Don’t you agree?”
You stretch out a hand and touch his smile, watching as his eyes fill with emotion. "I'd quite like to kiss you,” he says, voice low and husky.
"I was hoping you’d say that,” you admit. “But I thought you might make me walk another few miles first.”
"I considered it,” he says cheekily, laughing as he closes the last little distance between you. And then, his mouth claims yours as if it was always meant to happen this way.
The kiss is bright in the way morning is, and full of warmth. Hobi smiles into it almost immediately, and when you smile back, he laughs softly against your lips, making it impossible not to laugh with him.
He doesn’t let go of your hand as he looks around at the now peaceful dream you’re both in. “I reckon good dreams don’t ask you to stay,” he says. "They just remind you what happiness feels like, so that you can recognise it when you're awake."
The breeze stirs once more and you feel something shift, but nothing disappears or dissolves. The dream simply carries on around you as if it trusted you to find your own way from there.
planning on releasing a yoongi drabble soon-ish to celebrate that i'm going to the arirang tour on october 23th, now sam winchester has to compete with my og muses— him and jungkook.
probably when the rest of the group reacts to them dating or them seeing these 2 as a couple now or something. their friend group is so iconic !!
♡ 04: dinner and friends
series m.list // taglist unavailable
note: hangry vibes LOL
//
wednesday nights are for home-cooked meals.
as in: sleeves rolled up, veggies sacrificed, egos bruised. what started off as a sweet bonding tradition quickly devolved into a survival sport. a test of how many times the boys can push jungkook’s buttons before dinner is even plated. it used to be lighthearted. funny.
then jungkook started dating you.
and now? it's less who can piss him off first, and more how can we interrupt this weird domestic romance before we all throw up.
tonight, you’re running late.
not terribly. just enough that the boys are halfway through the prep, and jungkook’s slipped into his notorious silent treatment—head ducked, brows pinched, knife working like it owes him money. the onion he’s chopping is probably filing a restraining order.
he doesn’t look up when the door clicks open. doesn’t greet you. doesn’t soften.
instead, he just mutters, “took you long enough.”
wow! it’s like he didn’t scroll through your texts four times waiting for your last message.
you smile anyway, dropping your bag on the counter and walking straight to him. your hand brushes along the slope of his back. gentle. grounding. he doesn’t flinch. just shifts a little, the smallest tilt, like he’d been saving that space beside him all night.
his hand finds your waist like it’s done it a thousand times before.
firm. steady. routine.
“careful,” he murmurs, still focused on the cutting board. “oil splashes.”
you blink, reaching for the salt beside him—and immediately feel him tug you back by the waist, slotting your body behind his like a human shield.
“i was just grabbing—”
“and i’m just trying to keep you alive,” he says, tone flat but hand protective. “sorry for caring.”
his fingers don’t leave your side until you’re holding the salt.
“wow,” jin says from the stove, spoon in hand. “didn’t you threaten to stab taehyung 15 minutes ago for breathing too loud?”
taehyung gasps, scandalized. “you said, and i quote, ‘look at my knife and look at your life.’ now you’re—fondling someone at the stove? betrayal. pure betrayal. all for what? a girl?”
“for my girl,” jungkook corrects, not missing a beat.
you snort.
yoongi doesn’t look up. just brushes past you to grab a stack of plates, muttering, “you two are a food safety violation.”
you pout. “i just got here. what’s with the hateful energy?”
namjoon points at your boyfriend, spoon dripping over his wrist. “ask your boyfriend. he’s the one with rage issues and a god complex.”
“he called me a butter fingers 10 minutes ago,” jimin says solemnly. “i don’t disagree but it still hurt… and now he’s being handsy and gentle? pick a personality, jeon.”
“hmmm. sounds like you’re being a dick, baby,” you agree, tossing in your vote for public shaming. “hangry?”
the boys howl.
jungkook doesn’t defend himself. doesn’t even pretend to care. he just rolls his eyes like they’re all beneath him—and then gently guides you in front of the soup pot like the world’s grumpiest sous chef.
he hovers. doesn’t speak unless it’s to correct your form.
when you chop tomatoes, he adjusts your grip with a firm hand over yours. when you stir, he tucks your hair behind your ear.
“it’s gonna fall in and i’m not fishing it out.”
when you reach for the apron, he wordlessly takes it from you, ties it himself. his knuckles graze your waist. linger there.
and the thing is—you know him.
jungkook isn’t a patient man. he’s snappy, sarcastic, and occasionally evil when hungry. he’s got a fast mind, a quicker temper, and a long list of grudges taehyung is definitely at the top of. but when it comes to you?
he simmers.
“why are you standing like that?” you ask, peeking up at him.
“like what?”
“like you’re trying to merge into my personal space.”
he doesn’t even blink. “it’s our space.”
“you have your own counter.”
“yours has better lighting.”
you raise a brow. he raises you a soft smirk.
challenge accepted.
you lean in, press a kiss to the sharp line of his jaw, and catch it—that moment. the buffering. the breath he forgets to take, the slight hitch in his chest, the twitch of his fingers.
he glares at the cutting board like it offended him. “can you not do that when i’m holding a knife.”
you grin. “does it distract you?”
he mumbles something.
“what was that?”
“...obviously.”
and then—
the teasing does not stop.
“look at him,” jin points with the ladle. “she kisses him and he forgets he has opposable thumbs.”
“he cut onions faster than that earlier,” jimin adds. “now he’s like… stirring with love or something.”
“he asked me to move my elbow five times,” namjoon deadpans. “she bumped into him twice and he said ‘it’s fine, baby.’ i feel like crying—”
“fuck.”
a small ouch breaks through the kitchen chatter.
you turn instantly. “what happened?”
jungkook holds up his finger.
it's just a shallow nick, but it’s already reddening. he’s not panicking, but he’s definitely blinking like he can’t believe it happened. the room stills.
you step closer. “let me see.”
“it’s fine.”
you grab his wrist. “you always say that when it’s not fine.”
he lets you inspect it. lets you tug him toward the sink and run water over it, thumb brushing over the back of his hand, jaw clenched as he watches you work.
the room is silent.
“babying him now?” yoongi mutters, but it’s weak. even he’s watching curiously.
you dry jungkook’s hand with a paper towel, inspecting the cut again. “it’s not that bad. you’re lucky.”
“i’m always lucky,” he says, voice low. “i have you.”
you stare at him.
taehyung actually gags.
“can you kiss it better?” jungkook asks, way too earnestly. “baby, it’s ouchie.”
he says it too fast.
way too fast—like his mouth jumped the gun before his brain could catch up. there’s a beat of silence where no one moves, like the kitchen collectively paused to process it.
then it hits him.
his cheeks tint a slow pink, crawling up to the tips of his ears. he clears his throat once—twice—eyes darting to the floor as his thumb rubs against the side of his cut finger. you watch the way he fumbles for recovery, eyes scanning for a way out, but nothing lands. he’s already too far in.
and then—your lips press against the tiny scrape on his knuckle, gentle, like a whisper.
just once. soft and quick.
that’s when the teasing starts.
“it’s ouchie?” jin repeats, blinking like he’s trying to make sense of a foreign language. “you really said that out loud?”
jungkook glares. “i was in pain.”
“in your soul, maybe,” jin mutters.
taehyung leans against the counter, arms crossed, expression exaggeratedly solemn. “you’ve changed, man. you used to be cool. i used to admire you. the whole tsundere thing was really working for you—but ouchie? holy fuck.”
jimin’s already grinning, eyes flicking between you and jungkook like he’s watching a very slow, very romantic sitcom.
“so all i have to do is get hurt and i’ll get kissed too?” jimin says, holding up his palm with an invisible wound. “look, i think i have a paper cut. right there.”
“i think i pulled a muscle reaching for the soy sauce,” taehyung adds, clutching his side with a dramatic wince.
“you guys suck,” jungkook mutters, quieter now, rubbing the back of his neck with his good hand. “don’t forget i’m a chem major. i’ll poison you all.”
he says it without much bite.
mostly embarrassment.
regardless, his gaze flickers to you like he’s checking whether you’re laughing at him or with him.
you try to hold it in.
you really do...
but your shoulders shake a little, a quiet smile curling at the corners of your mouth. it’s endearing. all of it—his flustered attempt at asking for comfort, the way his ears haven’t cooled down since, and the petty threats he tosses out to keep from completely combusting.
he sees it.
sees the way you look at him and don’t tease, just soften.
and under the edge of the counter, almost like it’s second nature, you feel it—his pinky hooking around yours.
SEOKJIN:
Scenario - You’re hanging out with someone who’s been flirting with you subtly.
He'd stand there silently as he eyed up the guy speaking to you, trying to seem unbothered, but his sass level would sky rocket if you begin laughing at the guys jokes. "HAH! Wow! You're so funny!" "Oh! Where'd you learn that joke, you must teach me!" His sarcasm would grow and his voice would get louder, his expressions would get more excessive and dramatic until you pull him away. He'd sigh and roll his eyes later, looking at you with a raised eyebrow and an expectant loook. "No way you actually think that guys funny, that was all fake right?"
YOONGI:
Scenario - Someone at an event keeps leaning in too close to you.
He wouldn't say a word, he wouldn't feel the need to. He'd just lean closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him in a protective manner. He'd glare at the man trying to get close to you, standing stoic, tall and confident. His death glare alone would send the man running. Later, he'd lean close and murmur into your ear. "Stay close to me, don't go too far."
NAMJOON:
Scenario - Someone is being too touchy while helping you with something.
He'd tense up slightly at the sight and politely, yet firmly let the guy know he'd step in to help. Later, he'd casually mention, "You don't need anyone else to help you - i'll do it." Before smiling and placing a soft kiss on your forehead.
HOSEOK:
Scenario - You’re too focused on another guy’s performance and praising him too much.
He'd force a smile, making positive comments alongside you about the performer all the while slyly side eyeing you. Later his energy would seem off, he'd be alot more quiet and then dragging you out to dance with him, making sure to have your attention solely on him.
JIMIN:
Scenario - You’re giggling a little too much at someone else’s texts.
He would sit silently at first, side eyeing you not too worried at first. But as it goes on he gradually gets more agitated and suspicious, becoming more and more expressive in his annoyance, trying to get your attention. Not long after that he'd begin pouting and crossing his arms exaggeratively, "Your phone seems to be very entertaining today... who're you texting?" He lean over your arm, spying on your texts and would snort to himself. "That's not even funny, let me show you this..." He'd grab out his own phone and begin drawing your attention back to him.
TAEHYUNG:
Scenario - Someone is obviously flirting with you, and you don’t notice.
He'd be glaring silently, his attitude cold and bitter, waiting for you to notice. Then without saying anything, he'd interrupt and pull you away from the guy, going out of his way to openly show you off as his partner - playing with your hands, talking sweetly to you, openly flirting with you. He wouldn't have to say a word - his message would be received loud and clear.
JUNGKOOK:
Scenario - You’re too excited about another guy’s talent.
He would not take kindly to you taking notice in another mans talents, even if it was understandably impressive. He would immediately begin to try one up the guy that caught your attention, he would do anything to receive your praise and attention. "Oh? Yeah... I guess his skills on the guitar is pretty cool... if you're into that kind of thing... Watch this though!" Then he'd do something wild and unnecessary, like take off his shirt and flex, or do a literal backflip.
can i get a drabble or lil oneshot where oc and jungkook are moving to a new house or planning a new one, renovation or layout and it turns into a fight but ends in fluff something warm please in this cold winter🩵🥹
“I said, you’re acting like it’s just you moving in and not both of us!” Jungkook huffs, lifting up the last of the cardboard boxes and moving it out of the way before you trip over it… again.
“Am not! Your ideas are just stupid, Jungkook.” You retort, rolling your eyes as you stare at the tin of black paint before you.
You had strictly sent Jungkook to go and buy some paint for the main wall of the living area. Your instructions were very simple to follow really. Jungkook had to choose from either ‘magnolia’, ‘fine cream’, ‘milky pail’ or ‘vintage chandelier’.
“They’re really not, babe.” Jungkook shoots back. “You’re just going to make the house look like a fucking ice cream shop!”
Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, rethinking the decision of letting you take reign over the renovating process.
“You’re infuriating, I’m leaving.” You respond, anger carefully etched into every corner of your face.
“Where to? The bedroom that’s painted with ‘tranquil vanilla’.” Jungkook quotes with his fingers, chuckling at the names of these paints whilst simultaneously rolling his eyes.
“It’s ’summer linen’ actually, you’d know if you came with me.” You move to sit on the floor, opening the notebook to continue the never ending list of things you need for your new place.
It all started with a small disagreement. Well, small to you anyway.
The colour of the living room walls.
Jungkook was insisting that you go for a moodier colour palette, but you argued that black and grey everywhere would either look like his boring office or a fucking nightclub!
“I just want to feel calm, gukkie.” You pout, hoping it works in your favour like it usually does. “Black and grey… no calm.” You sniffle, wanting to take the acting even further.
“And I want to feel at home, not like I’ve been trapped in an Ikea showroom.” Jungkook joins you on the floor, mirroring your sniffle.
There was silence… for approximately thirty seconds.
Now, you could have been mature about it… but maturity? Nope! That had flown out the window just like Jungkook’s sanity when he decided to bring home black paint.
“You’re not helping, Jungkook.” You sigh, giving him a knowing look.
At this point, you’d really think Jungkook would know better.
“And you want everything to go your way!” He shouts, rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time that evening.
“My way makes more sense, Jungkook!” You assert, standing up and folding your arms as you stare down at him. “Stop making me out to be such a control freak.”
“Well, I mean-“
“Jeon Jeongguk!”
“Y/L/N Y/N!”
The two of you are now standing eye to eye. Brows furrowed, cheeks warm and huffing as loudly as possible.
As if on cue, you both burst out laughing, shaking your head at the immaturity.
Laughing with Jungkook was definitely the treasure of today. His laughter was your serenity because in those moments, you felt the most alive.
“I’m sorry,” you both mumble at the same time, eyes softening.
“I feel so excited about moving in together, I just want it all to be perfect.” Jungkook admits, pulling you into his arms.
Your heart drops instantly, moving forward to rest your heard against his welcoming chest. “You’re right,” you confess. “I got carried away, but I agree, this is meant to be a home for both of us.”
Jungkook gently pulls you back, looking down at you with his cocoa eyes full of love. “Summer chandelier doesn’t sound so bad,” he whispers, a teasing lilt lacing his tone.
You smile brightly. “It’s summer linen, baby.”
“Mhm?”
“Black decor would compliment it,” you cheekily snicker, earning a groan from him. “We can go to the IKEA showrooms you love so much.”
Jungkook wraps his arms around you tighter, engulfing you into a hug that weaves your souls closely together.
“No,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “We’ll go through your Pinterest board and recreate it.”
You laugh, nuzzling your nose against him. You knew that whether your home ends up looking like an ice cream shop or a nightclub, it would still feel like home. Because your home was right in front of you, swaying you in his arms.
Hope you enjoyed reading this 🫶🏻 it’s not my best, but I was able to quickly put something together to help distract me from the fact that I missed Jungkook’s live 🥺
