Wrong number? || BTS

40. Studio Practice Routine

Third Person POV's

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Y/N had always been a morning person, though she’d never admit it out loud—not when she was stuck in a house full of chaotic grown men. But even before the sun fully lit up the sky, she was already padding quietly into the kitchen, her hair messy, hoodie oversized, eyes still sleepy but mind alert.

And there he was. Jin.

The eldest stood at the stove, flipping pancakes like it was an art form. He didn’t even flinch when she appeared.

“Morning, Miss I-Hate-BTS,” he greeted without looking, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Morning, Chef Worldwide Handsome,” Y/N shot back, voice dry as usual.

Jin chuckled, “Grab the fruits. Don’t mess it up, please. My pancakes deserve better.”

She rolled her eyes but went to the counter anyway. Something about this quiet morning routine with Jin always felt weirdly comforting.

Minutes later, Namjoon stumbled in—looking like he just came back from fighting a war in his dreams.

“Hyung… you’re cooking?”

“No, the food’s cooking itself. Go wake the others.”

Namjoon blinked. “Seriously?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

With a defeated sigh, Namjoon turned around and disappeared back into the hallway, mumbling something about becoming a full-time babysitter.

Y/N just grinned and returned to slicing strawberries.

Breakfast, as expected, was pure chaos.

Jungkook leaned back in his chair, dramatically patting his stomach. “Hyung, this isn’t enough food! I’m a growing boy!”

Jin turned around with a spatula in hand, eyebrows raised. “There are twelve pancakes on your plate. Eat first, complain later.”

“But I already finished four,” Jungkook mumbled through a mouthful.

Across the table, Taehyung was busy dipping a sausage into a small bowl of chocolate sauce. “Guys, don’t judge me until you try this. It’s... revolutionary.”

“Hyung, that’s disgusting,” Jimin gagged, pointing his fork at Taehyung. “Also, Jin-hyung, the bacon should be crispier! It’s called texture!”

Jin spun around again. “Do you want to cook it yourself?!”

Namjoon, meanwhile, was multitasking like a pro—eating with one hand while scrolling through his phone in the other. “So, about the concert setlist, do you think we should change the transition between ‘Fire’ and ‘Run’? It’s a bit sharp.”

“You’re sharp,” Jimin muttered, still side-eyeing the bacon.

Next to him, Hoseok was grooving in his seat, spoon in one hand, body swaying to an imaginary beat. “Hyung, this toast got me dancing!” he beamed, popping a bite in his mouth and spinning in his chair.

And then there was Yoongi.

Head tilted. Eyes half-closed. Fork in hand. Eating… while borderline asleep.

“Is he… sleeping?” Y/N blinked, watching in disbelief.

“He’s functioning,” Namjoon said calmly, not even looking up. “That’s what matters.”

Y/N just sat there, quietly chewing her toast, her eyes bouncing from one member to another like she was watching some live sitcom. Is this what breakfast with BTS is like every day?