meme imagines

Namjoon: the chocolate hidden in the back.

Yoongi: 10 different brands of vanilla essence bottles.

Seokjin: 3 year old rice.

Jimin: The hairbrush

Taehyung: the small flavour sized packet of macaroni pasta.

Hoseok: 3 separately opened jars of coconut oil

Jin: please, just be polite in there.

Jin: well now that you're an adult, YOU call up to make your appointments .

jungkook: *throws it away and picks up a white shirt instead*

jimin, looking deeply into tae’s eyes: bro

tae, fondly tucking a lock of hair behind jimin’s ear: bro

yoongi: can you not?

43- “i am not losing you again”

“this was a mistake on your behalf, you dumbass.” yoongi glares at jin before looking under the couch for the umpteenth time.

“how is it my fault? you’re the one who wanted to adopt this dog!” he woofs barks replies. yoongi sighs and walks over to check behind the television, “yeah and i gave you the responsibility to name it but i didn’t expect you to name it ‘you’.”

“it’s short for creme br(yo)ule, you rotten lumpy nugg- YOU! THERE YOU ARE!” jin squeals, picking up the dog from his hiding spot underneath the coffee table.

“i am not losing you again.” jin says to yoongi after turning to look at him.

“yeah. you better not.”

6 - “you can’t die. please don’t die.”

the sound of taehyung’s voice was what woke jin up at 2:13 am. curiosity got the better of him, so he went down to the sound of taehyung’s voice to see what the fuck was up, because he needed his rest and the lil fucker was taking that away from him.

but upon seeing taehyung standing in front of the stove, whispering ‘you can’t die! please don’t die.’ at something sizzling on a pan, he began questioning why he still considers taehyung a friend.

‘taehyung, what the hell are you doing?” he asks, stepping towards the man.

taehyung looks over his shoulder and jin notices tears streaming down his tears. a few more steps forward and jin sees what the tears are for.

“you’re kidding me right?” jin asks, disbelief laced in his voice.

“it can’t die on me.” taehyung sobs.

jin sighs and claps his shoulder, ‘taehyung. you are cooking pre-cooked fish. at 2am for some stupid reason. stop crying and go to sleep or i swear i will throw all your blankets in the closest lake.”

27 - “i’m not going to apologise for this. not anymore”

“namjoon. you have a problem.i’m only trying to help you, so no. i’m not going to apologise for this. not anymore.” jin says, patting namjoon’s arched back.

“no. you have to apologise so i can reject your forgiveness.” namjoon replies in a muffled voice.

“seriously, namjoon. it was just one keychain, you have 49 mo–” “yeah 49. what am i going to do when all those 49 are burnt. I won’t have a spare one because you threw it away. i can’t believe you failed ryan like this. I can’t believe i failed ryan like this.” he sobs, standing up from his ryan beanbag and jumps onto his ryan quilted and mattressed bed.

he grabs a ryan cushion and sobs in it as jin stares at his friend, helpless and full of hatred for the round yellow thing with two dots, eyebrows and nose.

23 - “just pretend to be my date.”

hoseok walks up to yoongi, a nervous look on his face. he stops a few metres away from the elder man and clears his throat to get him to look up from his phone.

a few seconds later, yoongi lifts his head and his eyes immediately widen.

“hoseok. what the hell are you wearing?”

hoseok looks down at his outfit, a lovely prune costume situated on top of a white onesie that covers his arms and legs.

“okay here me out, it’s halloween and taehyung dropped on me last minute, and i need you to just pretend to be my date.” he says, pulling a bag from behind him and emptying out the contents, which turns out to be something similar to the prune outfit hoseok was wearing, but only a date.

yoongi’s face drops as he looks back down at his phone. “no.”

cut to a few hours later, prune hoseok and date yoongi are walking down the footpath with their arms linked and hoseok with a large smile on his face and a glare on yoongi’s. Because with a few tugs and threats promises, you can get yoongi to do anything.

79 - “you’re safe now. i’ve got you”

“You’re safe now. i’ve got you.” taehyung coos as he scoops namjoon’s lying body on the floor.

“NO, taehyung you got it wrong again, it’s ‘there, there, there. It’s okay, daddy’s here. daddy’s got you.’ where the frickity frack did you get ‘you’re safe now’ from? again. from the start.” namjoon glares, fixing his orange ball costume.

“namjoon please. i can’t do this anymore. out of all the movies we could’ve reenacted, why did you choose finding nemo? none of us are fishes.” taehyung argues, his body growing sweaty under the low quality marlin costume, the one namjoon bought from a cheap website. as if he needed another reason to despise his hobbies.

“you are what you eat taehyung, you wanted sashimi and i ate all the roe. so we’re doing this. again.”

13. “I could kiss you right now!”

everyone in the lab is silent, holding their breaths as they watch the experiment, a culmination of years worth of blood, sweat, and tears finally brought to life.

“it… it worked,” jungkook says softly, and despite how quiet his voice is, it echoes throughout the room, reaching the ears of everyone involved.

there’s a moment of silence before the cheering starts. hugs are exchanged and laughter echoes throughout the room.

“i can’t believe it worked,” jungkook says again. “we’re finally getting paid, taehyung! we can finally afford to eat something other than instant noodles and-”

“i could kiss you right now,” taehyung interrupts, his eyes intent with something and the corners of his mouth pulled up in a wide grin of exhiliration.

jungkook sighs. “taehyung, please don’t kiss the lab rat. this is why people call you a furry.”

taehyung abruptly looks away from the rodent and its loving gaze. “sorry.”

the rat squeaks angrily.

96. “Here, let me.”

“here, let me,” jungkook purrs as he leans against the counter and winks at taehyung.

“let you do what,” taehyung asks. “i’m just standing here.”

75. “You fainted, straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

yoongi’s had a bad week. a shitty week. a straight-up garbage week. an absolutely terrible, awful, no-good week where he was held captive by a dragon. for a week.

he’s not exactly sure why the dragon had grabbed him considering their usual trademark being kidnapping princesses and, uh, he’s a prince. according to the dragon, namjoon, something in the paperwork had gotten messed up and they’d accidentally filed yoongi as a princess instead of a prince and that it would all be cleared up within a week or two and yoongi could be left stranded in some remote cave filled with treasure for a wandering knight to find. or something like that, at least.

yoongi’s not really sure. he wasn’t paying that much attention since he was too busy fuming over the fact that a dragon had kidnapped him.

but, to be fair, the kidnapping wasn’t even the worst part. the worst part was that namjoon was, quit possibly, the worst roommate in existence. he couldn’t cook without setting something on fire. he couldn’t clean without setting something on fire. he couldn’t go a full hour without accidentally setting something on fire.

yoongi had timed it.

if namjoon hadn’t naturally been fireproof, yoongi’s not sure if there would’ve even been anything besides a charred skeleton of the dragon left by now.

but still, the week in which the paperwork was cleared up passed by without much incident besides, like, the usual hourly small fire or the usual daily philosophical rant that typically ended with the dragon crying into a cauldron of soup that yoongi had to cook. yoongi.

him, the crown prince of his kingdom, cooking soup for a dragon. his ancestors were probably rolling in their graves. in confusion. because even yoongi can’t say with clear certainty and conviction what was going on during that week, and he was the one who was kidnapped.

it’s fine, though. he’ll be home soon, and then he doesn’t have to worry about an overly clumsy dragon who keeps setting himself on fire and can instead focus on paperwork and diplomacy. it’s fine. he’ll finally be knee-deep in books and chin-deep in collared robes that itch too much and he’ll be too busy worrying about his kingdom to think about maybe leaving behind everything he hates about life at court, from the luxuries that so many of his citizens lack to the nobles he wouldn’t ever dare turn his back to, and pursuing his dreams of becoming a musician.

it’s fine. he’ll be home soon, and hopefully soon enough that it’s before he passes out since he’s currently hanging upside-down, tied to a convenient tree right next to an intimidatingly grim and dark cave that was nothing like and nowhere near namjoon’s real lair.

he can feel the blood rushing to his head. his face is probably bright red. he ardently wishes that namjoon had known enough about human biology to know that leaving him upside-down for this long was not a good idea.

he hears galloping in the distance and he feels a funny feeling rise in his chest. hope or something. he doesn’t think he’s felt it since he was ten years old and his father bent down on one knee, looked him in the eyes and told him that he couldn’t be a pianist since he had to go to his lessons and learn how to manage a kingdom and talk to politicians all day.

“help,” he says, wishing that they’d hurry up. his head is feeling increasingly light and his vision is blurring as well.

he squints and tries to make sense of the shapes in the distance, and, oh. he really hopes that the man leading the charge of knights isn’t actually seokjin, as in, kim seokjin, his third least favorite person in the world, and that this is just a hallucination caused by all the blood rushing to his head.

“help,” he says again, louder and slightly more panicked this time.

they arrive all too fast. as they untie him and help him down, he thinks, absentmindedly, that he would’ve been fine with being left on the tree, or that he would’ve been fine staying with namjoon. the dragon wasn’t that bad company, after all.

once he’s finally free from the tree, he waves off an offered helping, suspiciously smarmy hand. it’s seokjin’s hand. it’s automatically smarmy by the distributive property or something.

he takes a single, wobbly step, nausea rolling in the pit of his stomach, and promptly passes out.

when he comes to, there’s a suspiciously smarmy face far too close to his own to be comfortable.

“you fainted, straight into my arms. you know, if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to go to such extremes,” seokjin says, smirking.

jimin: you look g-