rough day
￫ summary: Namjoon coming home late was the last straw after a day full of minor inconveniences. Projecting your anger onto your boyfriend, Namjoon uses tickles to combat your grumpiness and help you to open up about why you're upset.
￫ genre: tickle fic, hurt/comfort, fluff
￫ pairing(s): namjoon x reader
￫ warnings: none
￫ word count: 3.5k
￫ A/N: i think it's really funny how namjoon posted on his instagram story yesterday saying he had been trying to organize a bunch of books for two months... this draft i've been meaning to post mentions how the two of you have been planning to organize books for TWO MONTHS 😅 it's confirmed, namjoon and i are connected somehow... jk jk. crazy coincidence!!
if there are any errors i sincerely apologize. also, seeing as i wrote this with myself in mind, please note that this fic is written from the perspective of fem!reader with my features.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
You were sprawled on your stomach, cheek squished against the couch cushion under you. Huffing, you stretched your arm out to reach the TV remote that had fallen on the floor at least twenty minutes ago but you were too lazy to pick up. But now, you had to put on a different show. You hated this show. You hated the theme song and you hated that one actor. Okay, maybe hate was a strong word. Nevertheless, you had to change the channel. And you needed to turn down the volume. Why had you put it up so loud? Making sure the volume was at an acceptable even number, you huffed again.
Where is Namjoon? You thought. He usually arrived home from the studio or dance practice later than intended, which you always understood. It was just part of the job. However, you wanted him home now. You had a shit day; nothing extremely horrible happened, but it was one thing after another, overflowing like a sourdough starter. You wanted to crawl into his arms and ask him for playful kisses to make it all better, but at the same time you didn’t want to see him. Namjoon coming home late was just the cherry on top of your bad day, and you wanted to blame him for something that wasn’t always in his control. It was silly, immature, and yet selfishly human; you couldn’t help it.
Right on cue, you heard the keypad from the front door dinging. Making his way into the living room, Namjoon let out a relieved sigh as he saw you, a breathless “Hi, baby,” leaving his mouth. Unluckily for him, you were going to drag out your bad mood a little longer.
You only grumbled in response, your pride stopping you from jumping up and attacking Namjoon with a bear hug.
Namjoon stopped in his tracks, his duffel bag falling onto the floor with a large thump. He studied you on the couch. You hadn’t even spared him a glance; you just stared ahead at the TV. Your brows were furrowed and your lips were formed into a pout. Although you looked concentrated, he knew that you were feeling the opposite. He could tell your mind was loud, thoughts going in dozens of different directions. Your body language screamed, “don’t talk to me.” But, Namjoon knew that wasn’t what was best for you right now.
Namjoon made his way to the other end of the couch, lifting your ankles up and laying them across his lap so he could sit. He watched the TV screen for several seconds before turning his head to you. He watched you quietly, noticing the sour look still on your face. You weren’t budging.
“Rough day?” Namjoon asked gently.
You didn’t answer. He tilted his head and tried again, more playfully this time. “You look like you’re two seconds away from growling at someone. Want to growl at me?”
You huffed, lips twitching just slightly.
“Ah,” Namjoon teased, leaning forward so that he could see your face better. “I think I saw the tiniest flicker of a smile.”
You shook your head and turned your head away from the TV and towards the back of the couch instead. You crossed your arms under you and tried to get comfy, still fuming inside. You figured you should’ve just told him right away what was wrong—that you had a bad day and him coming back late wasn’t helping—but you felt as though you needed to sulk and fuel your anger a little longer, and make him feel a taste of guilt. Just a pinch of it.
Namjoon knew you needed space sometimes. But, he also knew you. He knew the secret remedy you’d never ask for out loud, but your silence always begged for. He knew what you needed deep down, even if it wasn’t crossing your mind at that moment.
“Okay,” he said with mock seriousness, reaching behind you to grab the remote and mute the TV. “I’m gonna offer you three options.”
You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, wary.
“One,” he lifted a finger, “I can give you a long, philosophical talk about perspective.”
You let out a deep sigh and turned your head slightly to subtly look at him a little better. You couldn’t risk him catching another glimpse of a smile.
“Two,” he lifted a second finger, “I can let you stew in your adorable, little huffiness for the next hour to let you cool off and then we should talk.”
You rolled your eyes but still didn’t speak.
“Or three…” A sly smile spread across his face as his fingers wiggled in the air. “I fix your grumpiness with tickles.”
Your eyes went wide, a sudden fluster rushing to your face as you tightened your crossed arms protectively. You weren’t expecting him to bring tickles up, let alone be so direct about it.
As he was never one to dismiss your anger or sadness, you knew Namjoon would be gentle. Immediately attacking you with rough tickles to fix your mood wasn’t your thing. You also knew he would stop if you wanted him to. But you also really, really didn’t want him to stop.
“Don’t,” you mumbled, not wanting to give him an answer nor admit what you really wanted.
“What’s it gonna be, baby?” He asked, fingers pausing to let you think without intimidation. When you refused to respond, he continued. “I’m going to take silence as you wanting number three…”
Your eyes seared forward into the dark cushions, not daring to look at him as you remained silent.
“Option three it is,” he grinned, crawling on top of you and straddling your back.
Your whole body squirmed the second his fingers snuck into your underarms. You tried to suppress the laughter, but it easily bubbled out anyway—giddy, sweet, and full of the exact joy he was hoping to pull out of you. It was impossible not to laugh when he had you trapped on your stomach with absolutely nowhere to go. It was so much harder to move, and it somehow made you breathless faster. Laughter poured out of you, loud yet slightly muffled by the couch cushion under you.
You gasped between laughs, trying to catch them into suppression but failing miserably.
“I can hear you laughing, baby,” Namjoon chuckled, eyes gleaming. “There’s no use trying to stop.”
He tickled down your ribs and squeezed the sides of your waist, making you screech in delight. His fingers spidered back up your sides, and he laughed as you jerked when his hands slipped over the soft sides of your breasts.
“JOOHOOHOONIE!!” You shrieked through your laughter, as that was one of your worst spots.
"You’re not going to be grumpy for much longer,” Namjoon sing-songed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your shoulder between scribbles.
You tried to glare, but you were laughing too hard. Every time you pushed at his hands, he just redirected, sneaking around your defenses with expert ease. It wasn’t too hard for him to do so anyway, as reaching behind you was a near impossible task. If you tried to grab his hands at your ribs, you would open up your armpits, allowing him to slip his hands back into them. Each time he’d pull them out, his action continued an endless cycle of unsuccessful attempts to grab them just for him to take advantage of your open spots all over again.
Namjoon made a couple more rounds over your ribcage and waist, slipping his hands just under your shirt when you squirmed just right. Your skin, already feeling electrified from each precise touch, erupted in goosebumps. Roaring laughter came over you in waves each time his fingertips grazed over particular areas of your bare skin in strategic patterns.
After another minute, his fingers slowed, becoming more feathery as they grazed along your stretched ribs and across your back.
“Joohoohoon…” you giggled deeply into one of the decorative couch pillows. You were so flustered, and the transition from unpredictable tickles to steady back scratches was making you melt.
Due to you laying on your stomach, Namjoon could tell you were already getting tickled out, and simply wanted to calm you down now, partly to allow you to catch your breath but also to hopefully give you the headspace to open up about what was bothering you.
He leaned down and brushed away the hair from your face, smiling at your smooshed cheek against the couch. “Feel a little better?”
You nodded, cheeks flushed and breathless from all the affection. Namjoon kissed the tip of your nose and climbed off of you. You rolled over dramatically and flopped onto your back. Before you could do anything more, he was pulling you into a warm embrace, settling you into his lap.
“My baby girl,” he whispered fondly, chuckling as you nuzzled bashfully into his neck. “Should we talk about what made my pretty girl so grumpy?”
You shook your head against his neck, fearing that if you told him, he’d view you as childish.
Patient as always, Namjoon nuzzled right back and rubbed your arm in a soothing manner. “I think we should. It doesn’t feel nice to be brushed off when you arrive home from work.”
A pang of guilt struck your chest, but you couldn’t feel sorry for yourself. It bothered you that he repeatedly came back from work so late, but that didn’t give you the right to intentionally hurt his feelings. You shifted uncomfortably in his lap, embarrassed about being called out. However, Namjoon was opening the floor for you to do what he did best—communicating and sharing thoughts and concerns.
Namjoon started for you, continuing to rub your arm so that you didn’t feel overwhelmed. “I take it you did have a rough day, huh?”
You nodded, encouraged to speak with help from Namjoon’s unwavering patience and guidance. “It just felt like everything went wrong today. I spilled my coffee this morning and it got all over the counter. Right after I cleaned that up, I made myself another cup and ended up spilling that one too—all over my shirt! And I didn’t even bother making another cup of coffee because I felt like I was just going to spill it all over again.”
“Poor baby needs her coffee in the morning,” Namjoon teased, briefly tickling your tummy. You smacked his hand, half-heartedly fighting your growing smile despite having to detail the day’s obstacles.
"After I threw my shirt in the wash, I decided to change our bedsheets and prepare another load of laundry. I ended up stubbing my toe on the bed frame.” You pouted, remembering how it took nearly thirty minutes for the pain to completely subside.
“Do you need me to kiss it better?” Namjoon asked, playful but genuine.
“Nohoho,” you giggled uneasily, curling up into a ball in his lap to protect your feet, just in case he had any ideas.
“Okay, okay, go on, baby girl.”
“Well, while I was waiting for the laundry to be done, I decided to start color-coding the books on the bookshelf.” Namjoon nodded, endeared as he imagined your determination about completing a task the both of you had been procrastinating for two months now. He could see your focused face, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinting slightly as you analyzed the rows and rows of books you owned, working out the best course of action. “I gave up, Joon. I’m sorry. It got too overwhelming. There are books all over the floor in there. We just have so many books, and there are just too many variations in colors and sizes and not enough room to—”
“Take a deep breath, baby.” Namjoon’s voice wasn’t impatient, it was steady and unhurried. He wasn’t one to interrupt, but he figured it was best for you to slow down; it was imperative so that he could understand what you were saying and he disliked the idea of you becoming overwhelmed all over again.
You did as he directed and continued. “Alright, well, I didn’t finish the bookshelf and there’s a mess to pick up later. And the coffee smell in the kitchen was too strong so I opened a window to air it out which honestly was pretty stupid since it’s so cold out—”
You shrunk at the rueful smile Namjoon was wearing due to another barrage of rambles from you. You needed to slow down.
“—sorry. I got cold, so I wanted to wear my favorite hoodie—you know, the one you got me for my birthday last year? But I couldn’t find it. I looked everywhere, Joonie. It’s nowhere to be found. I looked in the laundry, my closet…your closet. I even looked in the trash because I was so desperate. I don’t know where I could have put it.”
Namjoon’s hand moved to your head, wanting to give his two cents but he could tell you weren’t done. You melted into the feeling of Namjoon’s fingers scratching at your scalp, feeling bad for what you were going to bring up next.
“And then…” You trailed off, biting your lip and focusing on Namjoon’s tanned neck. The little hairs and natural lines from constant movement were much more appealing to you right now than having to admit your pettiness.
“You didn’t come home when you said you probably would be. I know that’s usually the case, but… I don’t know. Today was just one thing after another, and I just wanted you home. You make it better. I just needed your cuddles or something right away. And when you didn’t come on time, I got upset and I wanted to make you upset too. I-I’m sorry.” Your voice wavered as you revealed the last thought, and you knew you couldn’t go on. Everything you wanted to say was basically covered, so it didn’t really matter.
Hearing your voice crack, Namjoon cooed into your ear, pulling you closer than you thought was already possible. “My baby, I’m so sorry you had a bad day. I’m here now, yeah? I’ll give you all the cuddles or ‘something’s’ that you need.”
A few tears had spilled from your eyes, yet you let out a watery giggle at how he took your own words for his own.
“I know it was petty and immature and childish but—”
“You don’t have to explain, baby,” Namjoon interjected gently. “I can see how me doing that repeatedly can build up inside you, especially when other things pile up beside it. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to hold you, baby girl. I’m here now, and I’ll hold you for as long as you need me. I’ll try to be better about coming home on time—or earlier, at the very least. I promise.”
You finally took your head out of the crook of his neck to place a firm kiss to his lips, a gesture to note a thank you.
“Can you just do something for me, baby?” Namjoon asked when you pulled away. You hummed. “Just talk to me about it next time, okay? I don’t think I deserved the silent treatment. I deserved at least a growl…”
You smacked his chest, but understood the seriousness of his request. “I’ll do that, baby.”
“You’ll growl at me or talk to me?”
“Joohoohoon!” You smacked his chest again, falling into exasperated laughter. “Talk to you, obviously!”
“I know, baby, I know, I’m just teasing,” Namjoon grinned, amused how he could rile you up. “But see how this is better? You could’ve been your cute, huffy self with your arms crossed on the couch, not saying a word. But instead, you’re being your cute, huffy self here in my arms, and we’re talking about it.”
“Yeah…” you blushed, tummy fluttering at how he described you.
“But just so you know, baby, you don’t always have to talk about your bad day immediately if you don’t want to. You can just say that something’s bothering you, and that you’ll tell me about it when you’re ready.” Namjoon gave you a reassuring smile, dimples popping out as he made sure you were taking his words into consideration. When you nodded, he continued.
“In the meantime, I’d like to comfort you in any way that I can, even if I’m part of the reason why you’re upset. Whether that be a hug, or sitting on the opposite end of the couch, I want to make it better like you said I do. Does that sound good? I don’t like seeing my baby sad or grumpy, even if you do look pretty cute…”
Another watery giggle flowed from your lips. “Sounds good.”
"Just say something, okay?" He reiterated. "Otherwise, I'll just have to tickle you again."
He grinned as you squirmed at that statement, knowing he was being goofy but that there was also some truth behind it.
“Now, how can we make the rest of the day better, hm? Can we fix anything?”
You shrugged, mentally finished with the day. It didn’t feel like there was any saving it at that point, as it was late enough already. Other than mending your little grudge against Namjoon, it didn’t feel like any more solutions could be presented. You just wanted to take a shower, jump into bed, and cuddle up to Namjoon while he read to you until sleep caught a hold of you. The quickest way to a fresh start was the only solution in your vision.
“Well, you got the coffee cleaned up, right? Did you get the stain out?”
“Yes, thank goodness.”
“Perfect! That’s one less thing you have to worry about. The bookshelf didn’t work out, but we can always do that another day. I have the day off tomorrow, so how about we tackle that, hm?”
You scrunched up your nose, the thought of having to face that wretched bookshelf again was daunting. However, you really did need to get that mess off the floor; the mess alone would eventually stress you out more than the hours it would probably take to color-code. “‘Mkay,” you sighed, but nevertheless gave Namjoon a promising smile.
“Now that those are out of the way, I think you’ll be pleased to hear that I know where your hoodie is, baby girl.”
“What?!” You exclaimed, sitting up in his lap. “Where?”
“You left it in my studio,” Namjoon laughed, the crinkles by his eyes deepening when your face lit up at the news. “Remember when you came by last week? The heater wasn’t working properly so you took it off when it got too warm in there. I found it on my couch a few days ago and I keep forgetting to bring it back.”
“Oh my god, Namjoon,” you breathed out, putting a hand to your chest. “Thank you so much.” That hoodie didn’t mean a lot to you solely because it was a birthday gift from Namjoon. It was the coziest hoodie that you owned, fleece-lined with a large hood that you could hide under and cuffed sleeves that hugged your wrists but didn’t constrict you. It was also plain and dark grey, so it matched just about any combination of pants and shoes in your wardrobe. But most importantly, out of all of your clothes, it somehow smelt like Namjoon the most. It was most likely because you made Namjoon wear it often, as you thought he looked so handsome and cuddly in it—especially when paired with grey sweatpants.
“You’re very welcome, my love. Now, what am I forgetting? Coffee, bookshelf, hoodie, coming home late…” Namjoon raised an eyebrow as he counted on his hands, starting with his pinky and pausing at his index finger.
“I stubbed my toe,” you whined, lifting your left leg up for dramatic effect.
“Aigoo, yes! Well, I’ve got to kiss it better, don’t I?”
“No, baby, it’s fine,” you giggled nervously. You weren’t falling for it. If you gave him your foot with the alleged intention of receiving a healing kiss, he was never releasing it. He was so going to tickle it until you were a squirming, screaming mess.
“I don’t think it is!” Namjoon carried on. “Give me your foot!”
You scrambled off of his lap, rolling onto the living room floor as a bridge to your escape. “Nohohoho!”
“Yes!” He shouted, leaping off of the couch to chase you. You darted around the coffee table, cackling as if he already had his hands all over you again.
“Joon—it’s too late for this!” You shrieked as he bounded around the coffee table towards you. It wasn’t too late at all. It was never too late for tickles. Instinctively, you always said something that refuted how much you loved being tickled. You could never fully admit how much you truly enjoyed it other than in deep conversations; they occurred from time to time when you and Namjoon discussed it in order to understand that side of you better. But, Namjoon knew you. He always understood the difference between you begging him to stop because you genuinely needed him to, and pleas that were being expressed simply to combat the anticipation of his tickles.
Right now, Namjoon knew your excuse for him not to continue his hunt for your foot wasn’t an actual concern of yours. He knew you didn’t mind the chase. This was all you needed to fix a bad day—Namjoon, his cuddles and reassurances, and of course, endless teases and tickles.
