#thekimlinenetwork
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the money project | 1
↳ pairing seokjin x you
↳ genre melodrama, angst, enemies-to-lover, fake marriage, intense pining on each other
↳ words 5.5k
↳ summary growing up, you know for a fact that seokjin is the worst person on the planet and you could never see eye-to-eye because he is boastful and tall. when his father exiled him from the family registrar, and threatened him with homelessness, he resorted help from his father's favorite person a.k.a the last human on earth he'd rather talk to. he asked you to marry him. events unravel and seokjin may have not been as bad as you thought he was.
↳ warning strong languages, suggestive content
↳ song bts 'fake love (haunting vibe mix)', bts 'tear (string mix)'
↳ chapters one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten completed!
The Americano is not bitter enough. Seokjin’s assistant starts wincing, and so are the rest of the members of the meeting. Some are immediately fetching for the bottle of water on the table to chase away the caffeine’s revolting after-taste— all of which sought no reaction from the company’s leader, the sole heir, Kim Seokjin. His stare was so intense, the shareholders could have sworn his ring finger could have been burnt by the looks of it. The presenter at the end of the table, face shone by the projector kept on talking through his stammers, seemingly afraid of the boss’s unengaging, unresponsive, most silent demeanor. His focus is fleeting and there’s only one reason why.
Aggressively yanking your clothes off while he practically plastered his lips on you, harsh breaths on your skin, Seokjin pushes your back further into the wall more than humanly possible, nip and bite on his way down while you held on for dear life, in the ecstasy caused by his lawless hand. All he could hear is your strangled moans, struggling to stay quiet as if he told you to do that. He rids off your pants, hooking his finger around the bands of your panties and getting that off of you, too. He moves like he was possessed, all relentless, and hungry. While you let him ravish your body as if you had been waiting for him to do so, all your life.
This was just a pretense. We were pretending. Just…
.
.
.
.
The sight of him chattering up that Slovakian beauty honestly irks you. He doesn’t even speak good English to be holding a meaningful conversation and she’s simply nodding at everything he says, noticing his fat wallets and pearly teeth, twinkling eyes— all the lot. With his stupid straw hats, beach shorts and black PUMA slides with that repulsive hand-dyed rainbow shirt. By the way they were looking at each other, they were ready to pounce once they stepped into the hotel room. Typical Seokjin in his habitat. His areas of expertise. He is obnoxiously smiling at this girl as if she was his whole world and you were fighting the urge to roll your eyes back into your skull.
If it wasn’t for your egoistic dad, who place value on his precious friendship with Seokjin’s dad, you wouldn’t have board this stupid cruise ship, in the middle of the sea, somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, with Seokjin shoving his coy, chatty skills at random Barbie wearing bikinis. Packed with the confidence of a rich man’s son, it was no surprise that he’s got people staring at him, wanting him. But the view…
Endless blue sea, the dolphins swimming by the ship, and the occasional pack of birds flying across the blue brilliant sky. Yes, the view was to die for. Refreshing wind, surrounded by strangers. People are passing beverages, snacks. The piano is being played by a skilled pianist, his fingers dancing on the keys. A tune you don’t quite recognize but it was soothing nonetheless. Two hours into the voyage, Seokjin is already pestering you with his bottle of beer to ‘loosen up’. Nudging his elbows to your ribs, relentlessly bothering you with his mere existence. Ever since he pulled your teddy bear’s head out of its socket when you were 12, you have hated him. And you thought, as time passed by, you would find one or two things to like about him, but no— he became increasingly frustrating as he grew older.
Especially at close proximity like this.
“Oh I will loosen up, if you let me punch your face, in all honesty, Kim Seokjin…” you grouched, leaning over the rails, “It’s already so annoying I had to see your face every single day, now you’re trying to strike a conversation with me… the ledge is looking very tempting right now.”
Seokjin replied to your snarky remark with a chuckle of his own, chuckling and looking away as he tips his head back to drink down the beer.
“Jump then, I dare you…” he arched an eyebrow, “The water is cold and there are sharks, you’ll be gone, ripped apart and no one will notice… I’d get away with murder.” He tips another hearty amount of the liquor and leans his back on the hand rails.
“Let me slap you once, I’ll be so content,” you hissed.
“You can’t, because a) I’m your dad’s best friend’s son and b) you can’t reach my face,” he tips his head back to down the bottle, and “You’d really think I’ll let you feel content while I’m here?” gazing to the bottom of the bottle, see if there’s still liquid inside of the green tinted glass.
“I hope you die of liver cirrhosis from the beers and wines and gins you kept drinking,” snarling, you moved away. Stomping your feet on the wooden panels, but of course, Seokjin followed, so you barked, “Why are you bothering me? Where’s your dad? Can’t you have them meet so I could go home and do literally everything else?! I didn’t see him board the damn ship.”
“Because he hasn’t landed,” Seokjin threw the bottle in the recycle bin, tutting his tongue and replace his straw hats to a black baseball cap with its beak covering his eyes, and,
“There he is right now,” Seokjin pointed at the helipad with his chin. The rotating motors are loud, relentless to the eardrums. Propellers rippling, slicing through the wind. There’s 4 people in total in that black helicopter. Two pilots, two personnel in the back. One is in casuals, the other wearing a suit and an ear-piece. The logo on the helicopter is Kim Seokjin’s family coat of arms. The turbulent wind brought by the landing helicopter hasn’t stopped. The engine continues to drill through your ribs even as it shuts down and you know this by the sound of its mechanical zing it projects. The four-bladed helicopter had yet to completely stop when Senior Kim stepped out, looking like James Bond on a mission with his private bodyguard. He was wearing black shades with a pastel yellow golfing attire with matching khaki trousers, looking like he just walked out of a golfing tournament. No wife in sight.
“Rich people antics, you won’t understand,” Seokjin gloated and gave you his hand, palm facing upward.
“Hold my hand,” he shot.
You crossed your arms. Eyeing him up and down. Who the hell does he think he is? He widens his eyes at you.
“Give me your hand, or I’ll hold your waist,” he growled under his breath.
His hand approached your hips so you caught his hand in time. But yanked them out again, because you didn’t understand why you had to listen to what he said.
So he hissed,
“I told my dad we’re together.”
“But we are not!”
“I know that! I need you to pretend we’re dating…”
“Excuse me?!”
“I can’t explain it right now, just hold m— “
He grabbed your wrist again but you yanked them out harshly while walking to greet Senior Kim, widening your steps but Seokjin easily grabs your waist next, forcing out a smile at his dad.
“Hello my future daughter-in-law,” he beamed and you drew a stricken unappealing, unassuming smile on your otherwise pleasant face.
“Are you alright, my love? Where’s your old man? I missed him so much.”
“I’ve been constipating, and dad’s in his lounge, he has a headache… a little seasick from the cruise. He just took some meds, he’ll be alright,” you answered, while actively trying to peel Seokjin’s hand from bruising your hip. Senior Kim walks ahead, ignoring Seokjin entirely, as if he didn’t see him at all, wasn’t there at all. It was as if Seokjin didn’t exist in his eyes. Seokjin’s smile is swept off immediately. He dropped his head and gaze lowered. He fell silent. It was so strange. An estranged father-son relationship? What did Seokjin do that made his dad that way? Senior Kim is the most loving, most affectionate person you have ever met but he was so cold and distant towards his own blood, his own biological son. For that brief moment, you actually felt sorry for Seokjin.
But your hate towards him was larger than whatever he has going on with his dad. Whatever happened between them is none of your business. If you toy around the area, he will call you nosey, and that’s the last thing you ever want to hear from him. You don’t want him to think that you cared about him, not even one bit. His fingers are still clutching on your hip.
You growled at him once, Mr. Kim is gone from sight. “What the fuck?!”
Seokjin sat on the couch of his VIP suite, knees spread wide, reading the in-house menu. While you pace left and right across his room.
“So if you’re dating me, you’re back in the family registrar because Mr. Kim doesn’t like Rachel who is an American Korean, he doesn’t want a foreigner in his family registrar…?”
“Precisely,” he flips through the menu, unamused. Scanning down the unfamiliar French cuisines and settling for the usual menus he’ll have every time he boards. Mushy green peas sound rather good at this time of the day.
Now pacing to the left of the room, you groveled, “Because your dad likes my family a lot… and you still want to be the sole heir. But you are the sole heir? You have nothing to worry about...”
“Wrong. I am only the presumed successor. Several family members are already in line,” Seokjin held his crooked finger up, correcting you.
“So? You will still earn some kind of royalty, right? Why the hell would you need more money? You already have enough!” You stopped in your track and quizzed him.
“I have zero experience in company managing, he is not hesitant to throw me off the family registrar. Because I pose no significance in his life. I have pride. I want to defend myself for using his last name. I need to save face. Therefore, I try to win his favor,” he looks up at you through the menu, “Through you.”
“My father likes you a lot, he considered you to be the daughter he never had so if I propose a marriage plan he can’t refuse, he would put me back on the registrar…” Seokjin meticulously sort out the agenda he had.
“But then we will end up getting married?”
“No, silly. You will be the future-daughter-in-law he would hate,” Seokjin’s eyes twinkles again. With a slight pause and a wide devilish grin he said, “Then the marriage would have to go under, rejected, disapproved and he will have to let me marry Rachel, the foreign girl I chose to marry in the first place. Isn’t that spectacular?”
His gaze, sharp. Holding you captive. Until you decide to blink and look away, “My dad doesn’t know we’re dating…” you recalled.
Seokjin folds the menu and sits back in his chair, crossing his knees and lacing his fingers over his stomach, “That, I was hoping you could fix.”
“Fix?” you repeated his word, “ Fix— you make it sound like a broken toy car that I could jab a tire in, or a Lego building snapped into two… It is not that easy, Kim Seokjin,” you crossed your arm, towering over him, “Not to mention that it wasn’t my problem to begin with. You put me in this position against my will and asking me to lie to my own father, you clearly have not thought this through…”
Seokjin shifted in his seat, uncomfortably. Eyes flickering to the floor of the side where you weren’t standing on. He cleared this throat and blinked rapidly as he noticed how rash this decision was made. Watching the great prideful Kim Seokjin cowering, noticeably scrambling under your stare was intoxicating; you have no idea how adorable he looked at this angle. Helpless, quivering mess of a man that carried himself so highly all these while.
“I don’t have to help you.
I don’t want to help you.
I have no reason to help you.
Your wellbeing is none of my concerns,” You spat heartlessly, mercilessly.
“What’s in it for you, is that what you’re asking?” He began, feeling the statement was rather bold. He shrugs off, feeling the tension on his shoulders that reminded him of a physiotherapy appointment he needs to attend, all this stress is building up stress lines on his beautiful face. Money has always been tight in your home. His quick wit would grant him a way out this time, he guarantees it.
“You’re dating the top 10 most eligible bachelors in the world,” such boastful, shameless remarks coming out of his mouth. The audacity. You scoffed to your left, arms stretching to reach the door knob and Seokjin said,
“Debts.”
He tipped his PUMA slide upward. Uncapped his baseball cap, pushed his bangs back and refastened his cap. His perky pink lips pouting, chin pointed, and jaws parallel to the floor. He gave a side eye to the menu and collected his iPad to order.
“Your study debts, your college fees. It will take years for you to repay your study loans… And you’re not guaranteed a job either…” He said in a sing-song voice as he scrolled down the menu in the iPad, seemingly more invested in the choice of food instead of how the future would look between you two. It’s such a dangerous game. There are risks to be considered— pride and individualism, freedom etc.
“I can do two jobs, maybe triple,” You darted.
“Right. Your mother’s medical bills are still ongoing, yes? How did her surgery go? I thought your dad couldn’t afford it? Your study loan, your brother’s study loan, your father’s bank debts— should I go on?”
You stopped and thought for a bit. Seconds felt like minutes. Every seconds of silence exchanged, brittle Seokjin fleeting hope, his final try for the family wealth.
Seokjin stood up from his chair. He paces around his chair.
“You get your money, I get my spot as his son back. Win-win…” his voice was soft, persuasive like the devil’s tongue. You couldn’t wrap it around your head; what do you have to lose? It wouldn’t be like an actual relationship, and you won’t have to worry if you could pay the bills at the end of the month, your brother doesn't have to work at McDonald’s to pay his study loan and your father? He would be less burdened. It all sounded good. But your silence seems to be taken the wrong way by Seokjin.
“I knew this was going to happen,” Seokjin muttered under his breath, “You think with your face, you could get around with a face like mine? You hit the jackpot by bewitching my dad. I will never understand what he likes about you.”
If you were being truly honest, Seokjin had gotten your attention the moment he mentioned your mother’s surgery. You don’t care about how good his face looks, it was the only thing he could brag about. The money he has is not even his.
“Some people have an eye for a good personality and… Wow, you’re not being a good boyfriend right now, I feel like I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore. Congratulations on being homeless,” you clapped and strode your way through the hall at the door when Seokjin stopped you midway. His eyes were soft. Pleading. And it felt good that he is finally beneath you, now that he needs your help, instead of the other way around. He mumbles in the softest whisper,
“Please.”
You took full advantage of the situation, and made sure he kneels over your demands, like a spoiled girlfriend. Carefully shaping the character of an overindulged girlfriend with a habit to spend. Hopefully that your antics will be enough to turn Mr. Kim to retract his love.
“Seokjin, my feet,” you said, so he massages it.
“Seokjin, drinks.”
“Hurry up, Seokjin. You’re so slow.”
He tails behind you at the shop on the cruise ship. He swipes his black card, passing it to the cashier every time. He carries the bags. Seokjin answers calls here and there whenever he could. You would catch him staring at the stock market displays once in a while. Snooping by his side, you would ask, “What are you looking at?”
“Numbers…”
“Yes I can see that…”
“Then you know what it means.
“Seokjin, I’m a science major. Not Wall-Streeter major.”
Seokjin twitches a side smile, his cheeks turning pink and you’re not sure if it's from the heat inside the ship or from the scary looking graph the TV is now showing.
“Come on, don’t be stingy. Tell me what are we looking at…” you coerced him.
“The KOSPI index is going to drop in the next month so I’m opting for another investment somewhere in the middle... “
“So which stocks are you planning to sell?”
“KOSPI obviously. KOSDAQ is worth buying… Want to buy?”
“With what money?”
Seokjin walks away chuckling, “The Swarovski perfume smells very good on you… I hope you bought it.”
You sniffed your own wrist and blouses but crumpled your face because you didn’t smell any fragrance on you so what was he talking about?
Seokjin this, Seokjin that. Best thing about that is, he was so taciturn, and obedient. Until…
“Daughter....” your father called out for you, “What are you doing?”
“I’m in love, dad…” you feigned a smile at your concerned father, “He said he wanted to treat me…”
“Yes, but… this is too much don’t you think? These bags, these shoes, clothes and perfumes? You never spent money on things like these before? Is this what you’ve always wanted? Is it because I couldn’t afford all this? You let Seokjin pay for it all? Is this love to you?”
He walked away, shaking his head and crossing his wrist behind his back and walked to the patio where the wooden chair was. And he sat. He refused to look at you and usually, you would have sat next to him and talked about whatever, but your spa appointment is waiting. Seokjin would be pissed if you’re late, you’re the one who booked it. With a heavy heart, you stepped into the ship and made your way to the spa center. It should be nearby. Half of the time, you don’t know if the plans are working. It’s been four days and you’ve spent thousands on Seokjin’s card but there is no indication that Seokjin’s dad was unhappy about your relationship.
In fact, he supports it.
At the dinner reception for four, as Seokjin was helping your dad to grab desserts, you were left with Senior Kim on the table. The television shows KOSDAQ stock market jumped triple the price, which means Seokjin made the right decision to buy it. Your head swung to where he was to inform him the happy news but Senior Kim got your attention. He cuts his sirloin steak with a fork and knife with ease, and he does it while smiling, grinning ear-to-ear. He glances up once in a while and places a bite-size meat on your plate. You opened your mouth to speak, wanting to tell him how smart Seokjin is, how he taught you stock markets and how to know which shares to buy and sell but, the older man had another idea for a conversation topic.
“You should eat more meat, you’re getting so much more frail than the last time I see you,” he chuckles. Seokjin is waiting for a scramble egg next, cooked by the chef while your father was entertained by the little flipping pancake show hosted by the waiter. You see your father smiling so widely at the performance and Seokjin looked more like his son than your brother ever was. Helpful and attentive. He is helping him pinch a lobster into the plate and fetching him his soft drinks from the beverage area.
“I…” you begin, “I would like to thank you, Mr. Kim sir. Had it not been you, me and my father would not have been able to experience something like this, getting on a cruise ship, dining with good food, accompanied by pleasant people like you. Seokjin had been very nice,” you poke the meat and nibble on them. The meat is succulent and savory, juicy. The lobster sauce was just a perfect amount of saltiness, creaminess and texture. It was served exactly like the ones in the luxury channels restaurant.
“I hope I am not going overboard, but I am more than delighted to welcome you into my small family. I don’t mind having your father over and it was a shame that your mother and brother couldn’t join. I could have appointed a medical team in charge of her here…” Senior Kim sighed in regret he didn’t deserve to have.
“Please don’t say things like that,” you ensured him, reaching across the table to cover his knuckle, soothing him, “You’ve done so much, too much for our family, it’s becoming an increasing debt we could no longer repay and I’m sure my father told you that always…”
Senior Kim sets down his fork and knife to fetch for his soft drink. He dabs the corner of his mouth with the cloth and clears his throat, “The more time I spent with you the more certain I am. Certain that you are the woman for him, my son. Who can put a leash on him. He has been on his best behavior since this voyage began. And I hope you can get married on this ship itself. It will make me and your family very happy. I will have your mother and brother flown in, if you wish.” Silence from your side. There’s literally nothing you could think of to say in order to turn the situation.
“If you’re really concerned with the debt you owe my family, why don’t you be a part of the family, officially?”
Suddenly, it all became all too real.
Now it wasn’t a charade or a façade anymore; this time, a knot is about to be tied. Panic rushed through your veins; hair in the back of your neck stood up as flashes of your unforeseen future were now in the hands of Seokjin. From his father’s word, he might be proposing as soon as possible with the best ring he could find on the ship. Seokjin must have said that the relationship had been going on longer than what you actually experienced. Hence, that’s why he is pushing for the marriage quickly. Because of that statement, a simple walk with Seokjin back to your cabin turns into a full blown argument. Popping veins and bulging eyes and everything.
“You were the one who was behaving in the favor of your father! How is this my fault?! If you had been ignoring me, he would have forced you to leave me alone! But no, you wanted to be the good son to your dad and mine! Now he thinks you’re good because of me and now wants me as his daughter-in-law!” you roared in his face, yanking the door heading to the back of the ship where the basketball field was and he went after you.
“If you just kept calm and be the dirt-poor you, instead of a spoiled brat, maybe he would have gotten bored instead of going with the plans! But no, you wanted to show him the extravagant-you so you could match the ideals you so desperately wanted to be! You’re so blinded by money that you probably wanted this to happen!” Seokjin’s face is turning red in anger.
“You thought that I would be desperate to marry a foul-mouthed scumbag like you who has nothing— no credibility, no profession, only after his daddy’s money because he doesn’t have any of his own?! You really said with your whole fucking chest that I wanted a man who insults my face and my height out in the open? You are so full of yourself, maybe it’s good that your father is throwing you out… you’re a trash, good-for-nothing douchebag!”
“I’m a douchebag? Full of myself? You’re all over smiling at my dad, consoling him to like you, and completely forgetting our original plan. You’re not a catch yourself, midget! Give me a fucking break… you just want to suck my dad’s money dry. You’re probably planning this behind me. You’re after my daddy’s money too, don’t forget that!”
You turned to face him, shoving him by the chest until he stumbles back with every word you say, “Our original plan?! I followed the original plan by the book, you fucker. Suck your money dry? Are you fucking stupid? Do I look like one of your Slovakian girlfriends?!” Shove.
“Those Slovakian girls are sucking your money dry, air head.” Shove.
“You asked me to help you and I did my best, fuck wit.” Shove.
“So is your stupid girlfriend Rachel! No one loves you for you. All they see is dollar bills on your face, no one knows who you are, nobody cares about you and what you like or what you hate, I’d hate to be you to be honest…” Shove.
“Stop pushing me...” Seokjin warned. And you stopped, but not because you were scared, but because you wanted to give him your final thought.
“You are a coward who lives off your father’s fortune he made on his dog days. You are so infatuated with yourself that you fail to see that you’re a kind person and you don’t need these girls to validate your existence. Making others feel small does not make yourself bigger. You just sound like an asshole, dude. You are a talented businessman but you don’t want to properly work because you thought you’re meant to waste money like other heirs your age. You try so hard to fit in the groups of ‘friends’ you thought to be your standards of friends, only for them to talk trash behind you when you weren’t there. Constantly proving your worth by buying new chains, new cars, new rings, new expensive ridiculous toys you could brag about having. But you truly have nothing. You’re a poor rich man’s son.
There’s no amount of money that could buy you the affection you secretly crave from the world.”
.
.
.
You dashed past Seokjin’s shoulder and walked back into the ship and into your cabin. But before you could close the door fully, Seokjin shoved his shoes between the gaps and held them open, forcing himself in. Fire in his eyes.
“And you care about me?” Seokjin’s voice is low, uncertain. Hesitating. Unalike his hold on the door that is firm and determined.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been courting Slovakian girls because I wanted you to see what you’ve been missing, and it irks me that you don’t want me, despite what I have.”
“Seokjin…” you felt the cold board behind you and he inches closer. Not stopping.
He took your lips in a forceful, heavily inhaling, sucking air out of your lungs, pouring his heart in it. Don’t fall in love. Do not fall for him.
“But Rachel…” you stammered when he parts from your lips to switch sides, “Your girlfriend, Rachel.”
“There’s no more Rachel…” His fingers found their way in between the gaps of your jeans and blouse, travelling up and up and up to your bra straps. He expertly unfastened the clasp with one hand while you gasped at the cold air. Hiking a breath in as he peers down on you through his nose bridge. The tip of his nose tracing down the length of your neck. His hand moves in between your clothed legs, steadily making their way to cup you. His middle finger is now teasing you through the fabric while he whispers your name hotly in your ear. Emphasizing every syllable. You could feel yourself pulsating against the pad of his finger, desperately praying that he couldn’t feel it. He chuckles in your nape, murmuring softly, “I can feel you wanting me…” You clawed his shirt, trying to stop yourself from squirting but to no avail, his maneuvers were too good, too skilled. Light-headed, fleeting, he was hitting all the right places and it’s almost sinful how delicious it felt. This is probably why people got addicted. The euphoric sensation of his fingers and voice and scent, multiplies into a concoction of a man-made ecstasy too beautiful to describe. And the worst part was that, he did that all without undressing you.
Harshly yanking your clothes off while he practically plastered his lips on you, harsh breaths on your skin, Seokjin pushes your back further into the wall more than humanly possible, nip and bite on his way down while you held on for dear life, in the ecstasy caused by his lawless hand. All he could hear is your strangled moans, struggling to stay quiet as if he told you to do that. He rids off your pants, hooking his finger around the bands of your panties and getting that off of you, too. He moves like he was possessed, all relentless, and hungry. While you let him ravish your body as if you had been waiting for him to do so, all your life. Throwing your limp body on the single, pathetically tiny bed, your knuckles turn white, grabbing on the sheet. The creaking of the bed did not make it any better.
Your hand scrambles to find a solid ground to hold on to, your palm slapped against the foggy window, leaving a prominent hand print. Your breaths and his rhythmically exchanged. You claw his chest, thighs and waist while he marks your neck breast and abs. He was relentless and raw. He didn’t stop for anything.
“I’m taking you, and I’m taking you now.”
This was just a pretense. We were pretending. Just…
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Seokjin held his pen in a closed fist. The presentation had ended and his assistant was nudging him with a gentle, barely audible tap on the table. Wearily, the poor middle-aged man cowers over Seokjin’s view informing that the data have all been presented. Seokjin lifts his chin up, sets down his Parker’s designer pen and clears his throat. Every individual in the room lowered their head, couldn’t even look at him in the eye. He stood up, grabbed his folded blazer laying on the table, brashly and fastened them on without a single word passed. One arm in and out the other end. His personal assistant scurried out after him.
“So, sir… the new project,” the assistant stuttered but before he could finish his words, Seokjin dashed, “Do I look like I want to discuss the project?”
The assistant bowed and shut the door behind him after he left. Seokjin leans back into his chair, closing his eyes in agony of the troubles he went through today.
“I can’t believe they flew me in to listen to a 5% initiated project when there is absolutely no progress to access!” Thud! Seokjin kicked the bottom of the table and swatted away his pen holder, in anger. He can’t imagine what you could be thinking.
And to be perfectly honest, he doesn’t even want to know.
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The morning after.
The sun isn’t fully up yet. You groaned awake at the view of the crumpled sheets when the cabin door was knocked twice and a staff sent in a breakfast tray. You could barely make-up the face and what’s truly prominent is the aching between your legs and sores around your thighs. You rubbed your face on the fluffy pillows, visions gaining clarity in a snail’s pace before it became clear to you that— you were awake alone on this bed in your cabin. You scratched the itch under your neck only to hiss in pain. When the staff leaves, you gather the blanket around you and walk up to a full-length mirror in your room. Tracing your finger down the length of your neck, you find strange purplish-blue bruises trailing down the middle of your chest, down your torso and your thighs.
“Do you like this position? Do you like this?”
The memories come flooding in like a blizzard.
Flashes of obscene images. Sheet-gripping, white knuckles. Hot passionate breaths and raunchy moans. And one particular face above you, those dreamboat shoulders, plush soft lips and vulgar words— you could still feel him in between your legs.
So big and so full.
You hiked a breath in, just like you did last night. He got you feeling so high and incredible. His dreamy love-making makes the empty bed look like a nightmare. You felt you’ve crashed down on the concrete ground. Insignificant, undignified, terribly unloved and uncared for. It was the worst feeling one could feel.
Along with shaky exhales, you casted your gaze downward and chuckled bitterly, pathetically upon your black and blue marks he left.
How depraved. How truly repulsive.
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To be continued...
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Copyright © April 22nd, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading :)
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the money project | 5
↳ pairing seokjin x you
↳ genre melodrama, angst, enemies-to-lover, fake marriage, intense pining on each other
↳ words 7.8k
↳ warning slightly strong languages, fluff, suggestive content
↳ summary we are here to collect memories.
↳ song ‘fragile’ kygo ft. labrinth, ‘камин’ emin ft. jony, ‘funeral’ maisie peters ft. james bay, ‘green’ cavetown, ‘all the stars’ kendrick lamar ft. sza
↳ chapters one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten completed!
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Semester break began.
The machine is annoying, Seokjin thought. He scrolls down his iPad nonchalantly by the window of the hospital room. He is reading the emails, but he forgets to understand the content. On the verge of losing his composure, he sets his tab on the coffee table next to his empty mug of coffee and leaned back, sighing. He averts his eyes to the view of the sky, looking through the blinds. Then he flickers to the view of you laying on the bed, strapped to an IV bag.
They’ve put her to sleep for how long now, it’s been hours, Seokjin grumbles in his head. He looked down to his Rolex and looked at the time. It’s been five hours. She needed that sleep. Seokjin hoisted himself from the chair, strides to where the bed is. With his hand in one pocket, he looks down at you. He curls a baby strand of hair behind your ear and tuts his tongue. The event replayed in his brain like a broken record…
Of course you had to be sick on the first day of semester break.
⸻
Several hours ago.
You stepped out of the car after him. You said you had trouble breathing and he thought it was just nerves. You had your hands over your head and at times, pinching the bridge of your nose during the whole ride. He told you what he would tell anybody; to relax. But when Yoongi greeted you both outside the office building, you clutched over his arm to which he rejected. Then, you fell to the side and he caught you by the waist to have you leaning over his chest.
“Get the car,” Seokjin whispered urgently to Yoongi. Seokjin carried your limp body into the car’s backseat. You weren’t responsive. Fingers grew purple and cold, your lips were deathly pale. Seokjin hovered his finger underneath your chin to where your pulse is; they were weak. He told the driver to hurry and the engines throttled through the busy city. When they arrived at the hospital, they strapped you on the stretcher and rushed you through the emergency. He took off his blazers and chewed his lips while waiting next to the chaotic scene. The doctor came out from the main hallway with a sullen look on her face. It’s hard to tell if it was her face or the day had been difficult but Seokjin cared about neither; he just wanted to know if his wife will be okay. The doctor asked for her history. Medical history.
“Is she on medications?”
“She is on several pills. I can’t remember what it is…”
“Who are you to her?”
“Her husband…”
The doctor gave him a side-eye as she examined you on the stretcher.
“She has a monthly appointment with a doctor in the ObGyn* Clinic downtown. In Samsung Tower,” Seokjin explained breathlessly, “She was, she was on hormone pills! There’s a 5.2cm diameter of growth in her!” Seokjin frantically remembers. Upon that information, the doctor ordered an ultrasound scan for you and asked him to wait outside so he doesn’t interfere.
*ObGyn refers to Obstetric & Gynecology
Thirty-five minutes. The longest 35 minutes he had ever lived.
He stood up every time the door opened. Yoongi was on the side waiting too. Got him some coffee that he wouldn’t drink, some buns he wouldn’t eat. Yoongi took care of all the business calls because Seokjin didn’t want to be disturbed. The whole ordeal took him by storm. They were preparing to go to the dinner his mother hosted. You already told him that you weren’t feeling too well, but you thought, nothing a painkiller pill couldn’t fix.
The doctor finally approaches Seokjin.
“Her red blood cells dropped acutely. She collapsed due to her anemic and that was caused by the bleeding in her uterus. I just got off the call from her doctor, and it seems that she had been delaying her appointments, did you know about this?”
She looks up to Seokjin. Seokjin shook his head, eyes glued on the doctor.
“The polyp is now 7.6cm in diameter. It has to be removed. Once she recovers, I will arrange a surgery for her if that’s alright with her and with you…”
⸻
The knock on the glass window pulled Seokjin back into the room where he stood by your bed. He lifted his head and saw a familiar face. Rachel. She waves at him through the glass window.
He sits on one end of the bench while she takes the other.
“Christian said you’d be here,” Rachel chirped before she shook her head and, “Ian, sorry. It’s Ian in Seoul, I always forgot…”
Seokjin remembers how Ian looked when he took you away from him.
“Forget about him, why are you here? You said it was over…” Seokjin rests his elbows on his knees, rimming the brims of the plastic cup— mindlessly.
The nurses sitting on the main desk on the ward passed a look to Seokjin. They couldn’t hear the conversations but the girl was suspiciously handsy, they thought.
“You think they had something before?” One nurse said.
“Look at those eyes, it’s obvious they were old flames,” another replied while putting medications into cups.
“No wonder the wife is in the hospital,” the one pushing the trolley spat, “Men, what are they good for…”
Rachel’s hand rose up to Seokjin’s thigh a couple of times and she scooted closer and closer to her as time progressed but Seokjin’s expression remained stoic. Then she somehow shed some tears amidst the story and Seokjin smirked in her face while crossing his arms. She continued to talk and talk and talk until finally, the nurses heard a buzzer coming from your room. It’s when patients require assistance. Seokjin left her mid-sentences and sprinted to your door.
You started with a coughing fit, “T-thirsty. I need water…”
Seokjin snapped open a bottle he found from the plastic Yoongi bought before he left for office and helped you drink. He popped in a straw so you could easily drink.
“Better?” He asked gently. You nodded.
The nurse checking on your vitals tutted in annoyance.
“We need her to stay one more night, her vitals aren’t satisfactory. Doctor’s note says she’s stressed out and she needs plenty of rest. If she’s not getting it at home, she might as well stay here where she is taken care of,” the nurse proceeded to give Seokjin a side-eye. It was obvious that they take the little conversation in the hallway with a girl that isn’t the wife seriously. The girls made a pact with each other.
“She’s right,” Seokjin resigns, “I should have taken care of you better.”
You looked at him, a little frightened.
“Now you need to be hospitalized it seems,” you snarked.
A few hours later,
Seokjin watches you as you eat the second tray of food they sent you. It was heavy with red meat and spinach and cockles. It was to try and bring up your red blood count that was way too low.
“They say you have to go through a surgery,” Seokjin started.
You laughed at your food and shook your head.
“Nope,” you spat.
Seokjin tilts his head to the other side, “I don’t think that’s up to you. When the doctor says you need a damn surgery, you get a damn surgery. There’s a damn good reason why they tell you to. They don’t just ask anybody to go on a surgery just because they’re bored, dumbass.”
“I can’t.” you shrugged.
Seokjin stood up angrily and yanked his folder blazers from the chair.
“Fine, then you pay for the fucking hospital,” he pokes one arm through one hole and the other as he leaves the room. In his mind, he doesn’t want to dwell with such a stubborn person. He had better things to do than that. He drove the car to his penthouse, leaving you behind. As he walked angrily into the elevator, he remembered what Rachel whispered to him. He realized that if he returns home now, he will have to get it over with.
He placed his thumb on the scanner when the door beeps open. He walked through the doorway and to the living room where a woman is sitting by the fireplace. She turned to look over her shoulder at Seokjin, and she smiled seductively. Seokjin marched towards her. She wore a necklace with the initial R. They slept together in Seokjin’s bed. She tore off her necklace amidst love-making and the necklace fell into the cracks of the bed, the gap between the headboard and the bed.
When she fell asleep, Seokjin crawled out and took her phone from her Louis Vuitton leather bag. He used her old password and it unlocked. He went through her phone and searched for the file he needed. He had them sent to his confidential email and deleted all the traces of it. Watching her bare back, laying face down on the bed with half of her body draped over with a maroon satin duvet, Seokjin’s jaw twitched in determination.
“Not this time,” the word repeated in his head.
⸻
What happens to the girl no one falls in love with? The girl who is always third wheeling her friends. The girl who thought dating would stray her away from her books. The girl who lives in the library and thrives on coffee. The girl worked her ass off for her own money and forgot about love. Did she also become a woman no one fell for?
The neon light flickers off as the day about to begin. The subway is getting busy. People multiply by the minute, ushering in and out stations. Some run through the closing doors. Some spilled their morning coffee on their shoes, angrily yanking out a tissue from their pocket. The sun is barely out but poor people have to work.
Uptown where the scenes are different, the maids prepare breakfasts for their homeowners while they sip on coffee and read the day news. Their cars are brought to them by the chauffeur, waiting at the lobby. Their sleek cars never went through mud. Some of them yelled at the staff for mistakes like making their coffee wrong. It is easy to find errors when there is so little to complain about. They talk about politics and the economy and how it affects them. They scramble to find new places to donate from and make sure the news writes about it. Good deeds are only good deeds if they are seen.
In their fancy cars, private jets and helicopter rides, they look down to those who are dying to live while they live to die.
You probably had never seen that many rich people in your life, ever. Standing awkwardly at the corner of the lounge area, you scanned the room for a familiar face. Maybe Yoongi or Seokjin. Seeing neither, you helped yourself with a glass of fruit punch passed by a waiter. Watching from afar was a lady carrying a Louis Vuitton purse. Smiling secretively, she swings her heel away.
Seokjin slips his hand over the curve of your bum and you breathe in hard. You could never get used to that. He scans the room anxiously too. He downs a shot of bourbon and winces at the aftertaste burning his throat.
“Should you be drinking?” eyes tunneling into the view of his jaw, voice full of concern.
“It helps with the nerve,” Seokjin clears his throat.
“You’re nervous? That’s a first,” you jutted your chin out, “Will Senior Kim come too?”
Seokjin pauses a beat and shakes his head.
“What do you mean?”
“He is not coming to any projects I started.”
“What!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!? That’s unacceptable.”
“That’s the relationship we had.”
“But on the ship he was…”
“On the ship we are not ourselves…”
Seokjin’s eyes were stern. Those eyes say that his words are not to be argued. And it hurts— the last few words string together, it is painful. He set barriers.
“So this is the wife of Kim Seokjin, huh?” a guttural boisterous voice thundered through your ribcage and you already hated how it drew everyone’s attention to you. Not enough with that, this fifty-something man laughs heartily while slapping Seokjin’s back and you decide you will hate him. He didn’t have to say another word for you to expect condescending remarks from him. He just looked the part— bushy eyebrows, kempt grayish hair, strong nicotine smell coming from everything he touched, unlit cigar in between his fingers. He just waves it around when he speaks.
Apparently he was related to Seokjin, an uncle from his father's side. This is probably that uncle Seokjin said was trying to omit him from his family’s registrar. The reason being that Seokjin wasn’t involved in the management early on. He was conceived when the company grew big, was he supposed to start signing papers in the womb?
“Well, considering the prestige Seokjin is from, I would be expecting a lady of magnificent grandeur littered in designer cloth to be standing next to him but I reckon, his type is the more meek and ordinary looking girl…” he sneers. Seokjin looks down and maintains a smile.
“Yes that is she,” you held out your hand for a handshake which the appalling man took, but he managed to do so in a way that you find a little offensive— you weren’t sure if it was his stare or the way he brought it no higher than his bulging stomach.
“So, Seokjin,” the man snaps his head to Seokjin as if to show you that you are not worth his attention after the brief introduction and you are no more important than what he came for, he continues, “This project you are planning. Let’s be brutally honest, it is nothing new, and today’s stunt to bring new investors is really piling on daddy’s money into the furnace…”
He went on to explain how housing projects don’t really bring the biggest turnover because in today’s buying culture, people would buy one house and get it over with. It will be a rich people’s playground and that’s it. Literally, every word that leaves his mouth felt like another bottle of gasoline into the fire. You could feel how Seokjin seemed more withdrawn and chuckle bitterly at every striking comment his uncle pressed on. Pouring more salt into the wound. Then stepping on it with dirty shoes. For a while there, you got sucked into the environment Seokjin grew up in. Countless demeaning words, constantly told that he wasn’t good at literally anything he tries in— anyone would have resigned in utter defeat.
But Seokjin stood on, despite being trampled on. And in that brief moment, you realized how mentally strong he was.
However, you will not let this man get away with his words.
“How about you there? You might think that this was the easy way up huh? Seduce a dumb rich boy and get him put a ring on it and you be in the list…” the man scoffed degradingly, “Sad that you don’t even look the part.”
You beamed at him, despite the awful thing he said, you were about to school this man. And Seokjin is in the front seat.
“Of course I don’t look the part, where’s the fun in that?” You smiled at Seokjin and turned your attention back to the old man, “I am more curious about the seemingly redundant overvalued gatekeeper this company had… yes you, I am talking about you, your grace. You seem like a good people reader albeit a little off the tangent in your prophecy but let me tell you what I see you, would you like to hear?”
Not waiting for his response, you continued, “You smoked an awful lot of cigarettes that you start to smell like one. Not only that, you picked on your nephew, putting him on the magnifying glass and dictate him on the things he had done wrong without telling him the solution to it— which makes me doubt if you truly are a good businessman you said you are because if we’re being brutally honest, the business took you in because you were failing in everything you put yourself into. And you’re an inch away from being nabbed so in order to stop others from seeing your flaws, you try to magnify others. But hadn’t they told you that you could only bring someone down, if they’re above you?”
He tutted his tongue and before he breathed you added, “I have never seen your name on any project produced by Kim Holdings and that’s on the research this ordinary girl did when she’s around Senior Kim’s mansion. So in conclusion, you have a lot to say for someone who contributes farts and feces into the company— all talk, no actions,” you smiled coyly knowing that you’ve destroyed him to bits, snatching a glass of champagne from the waiter, “But what do this ordinary girl know about that, she writes scientific researches and hold lectures in her free time and in her weekends, she dances on poles and scans the room for dumb rich boys but fell for a smart rich man instead,” you wrapped your arm around Seokjin’s biceps and tilt your head to rest on his shoulder, smiling at the man. You straighten up and sipped the champagne and the man walks away to pretend to find someone else in the room to talk to.
“You tore him to shreds,” Seokjin huffs. You handed him the rest of the champagne, “I fucking hate champagnes…” He downs them without a problem.
For the whole night, you promote the housing area better than Seokjin’s whole marketing department. You kept throwing compliments towards Seokjin since you learnt about the specs of the housing area, highlighting anything that sparks interest in the investors. As the night progresses, you begin to build a good rapport within the circle. You were lively and highly magnetic to talk to. You were solid in many fields which amazed the guests. People became interested. You ensured that the conversation returns to the housing area Seokjin is developing every time. Seokjin was wearing his best smile and charms, equally trying to evoke interest in the project. Yoongi showed the slides on the screen and showed progress in the making. That’s when Seokjin turned to the audience and saw his father there.
“Dad?” he whispered.
Senior Kim stood up and greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.
“So happy that you came,” you beamed at him. Senior Kim passes a slightly disapproving face at Seokjin.
“I came to see how horrible it is,” Senior Kim passes. The tremble in his voice suggests that he tried so hard to pretend to hate it.
“You have always been a bad liar, uncle,” you tittered, “Seokjin had done so well today, I am so proud of him. Yoongi is going to be busy with international calls tomorrow, I imagine. Everybody liked the solar system design and man-made lake. Seokjin also introduced a greenhouse design which I think was incredible. Seeing it from a scientific point-of-view, it would certainly be a pioneer in eco-friendly housing! It’s never been heard before, it’s just so brilliant. It is as if he has read my papers on it…” You enthusiastically explained to your father in law. The guests begin to leave.
“Hello Uncle Kim,” a sultry voice intruded on you.
Clad in a deep-neck black silk dress with spaghetti strings, was Rachel. She holds her Louis Vuitton purse to her front, gracefully.
“Oh, you…” Senior Kim acknowledges.
“This is such an enthralling experience to be in Seoul. Seokjin had invited me here so I had to make sure I attend, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she rubs his arm up and down, boring a smile to Senior Kim. A hospitality he didn’t return. You could see how he dislikes this girl to the bones. You didn't have to ask to know who she was. That's Rachel. Seokjin's old flame. Seokjin stood there when his father threw him an acid glance. Rachel went on to praise the project and how she will contribute to some serious banks it seems. After she left, Senior Kim looked at Seokjin.
“Can you give us a moment darling?” Senior Kim said but he didn’t look at you.
You didn’t ask more questions and disappeared to the study room with the door stood ajar. You saw the conversations but too far to hear it. You hide behind the pillar, then sat on Seokjin's lonely home office chair.
⸻
A sharp sting looms over Seokjin’s left cheek as his father’s hand flew across his face. The acid in his eyes lasered on the marble floors of his penthouse. The sound of the assault echoed through the empty hall.
“Have I not made myself clear that you were never to contact that wench?” Senior Kim’s voice thundered through the now empty halls.
“I didn’t contact her, she came to Seoul herself and with Ian’s help had found me,” Seokjin explains himself hurriedly but Senior Kim didn’t listen.
“She sent the sex tape of you and her to my office, and now she is threatening to release that, unless I do something about the marriage, do you know how embarrassed I was! You are the heir to Kim Holdings! And you… You! What a disgrace, you should have never been born.”
Seokjin swallowed his saliva, looking down to the floor at his shoe. Tears pooling on the brims. Before Senior Kim left, he made sure Seokjin understood that all he was, was a defect, and an Achilles heel in his family.
All Seokjin’s effort to delete the footage was in vain. He slept with her that night so he could hack into her phone and retrieve the video, but Rachel had sent them to his fathers before she even came. And he was so stupid to have believed her words. Rachel wants this marriage annulled, but Seokjin promised you a better life in a way. Rachel will not rest until his life is in turmoil.
“You should have told me, I would have sent someone to erase them before it gets this far…” Senior Kim hisses.
“Would you have listened?” Seokjin whispered under his breath. Senior Kim spun around to face him.
“What did you say?” Senior Kim tilts his head to one side.
Seokjin lifts his head, glaring at his father. His piercing gaze punctured through his bangs, “I said would you have you listened to me. You already hated the sight of me, you already expected the worst of me, would you have listened if I needed your help?!”
Senior Kim lunges to Seokjin once more. Seokjin braced himself for the slap as he had seen the man’s palm raised, he clenched his eyes shut and flinched. Time slowed down.
But...
But the slap never came.
Slowly, Seokjin peek through his lashes to see two tiptoeing barefoot, hands gripping on his father’s arm. You held on so tight as if your life depended on it. Your eyes were brimming, shifting slightly, pleading Senior Kim to lower his arm. Seokjin fell butt first on the floor as his knees gave way. He breathes heavily. Senior Kim went for the door without another word. You watched him leave the hall, his back getting smaller and smaller as he got further and further.
Your husband cowered, hanging his head low. He hugs his knees, unable to meet your gaze when you knelt in front of him. You tipped his chin up gently. He refused at first but you didn’t give up. You see a looming bruise on the side of his lips once he surrendered. His lips are also busted and bloodied. Your lashes flutter at the sight of his injury. Sure it was not serious but to know that it came from his own father was painful.
You sat him up on the toilet cover and used a cotton bud to put the ointment. He winced at first and you darted, “Oh you big baby you.”
“Why don’t you get a busted lips and I'll tell you what a big baby you are…” he shot back.
You smiled softly at him. It’s great that he began to act like himself again. You were beginning to worry if he had become numb to feelings and had his pain receptors fucked up through the years.
“We need to get this treated or else it gets infected then your lips will grow twice bigger than this and we don’t need that much beauty on your face already…” you chuckled softly and, “As if this marriage isn’t already difficult to protect.”
He reclines, dejected. The whole memory returns to him like a tide and he feels uneasy. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought it up yet, maybe it was too early to say something like that.
“So you heard everything?” His eyes turned soft. You turned away from him, discarding the used cotton bud and washing your hands under the automated sink. Seokjin didn’t know where to begin. Do he apologize about the sex tape first? Or the fact that Rachel invited herself here? Does he tell you what happened that night and how it led to what happened just a few nights ago?
“I believe you. You said Rachel is no more, and I trust that…” you spoke to the pouring water in the sink unsure if you truly have faith in the things you say. You have gotten good at lying over the years. Is it lying if you only tell him the things he wants to hear?
“My home isn't quiet too Seokjin, I know scuffling when I hear one,” you dropped your gaze to your rings and Pandora bracelet, “My little brother is a handful… Before he enrolled in police school,” you turned to him and snatched the ointment tube from the sink counter and pinched it’s ends playfully, waving it in front of Seokjin, “Why else do you think I carried this around? For fun?”
Seokjin would have never guessed. Boys raising boys. You continued to mumble how you need a boiled egg for the bruises on his face and how uncomfortable the heel you were wearing. Behind you, Seokjin stares at the view of you with a certain twinkle in his eyes.
⸻
The truth is everyone lies to an extent. The truth is far as you can see. The truth is what you know is all that you know. The truth is the story is as far as witnessed.
It was raining when you arrived at the small little cottage. And it got heavier once you stepped into the doormat of this home.
“I thought you said she was home?” Seokjin shakes off the rain from his Balenciaga shirt, hopping in place.
“She is… she promised,” you knocked on the wooden door harder this time, “Aunt Shuma!”
Half an hour has passed and you were on the phone for yet another call left unanswered. Suddenly, creaking from the side was a mysterious figure covered in raincoat. You instinctively moved closer to Seokjin but he too was moving away from the stranger.
“Aunt Shuma?” Seokjin asked.
“Who’s there?!” This raincoat spun around in panic and softened when she saw you, “Oh my gosh, you frightened me…”
Inside, the cottage had a small seating area with a little fireplace. It is covered with crochets and knitted cushion covers that Seokjin dare vouches, handmade. You helped her carry a cookie jar while she carried a tray of fresh brewed tea. Turkish tea leaves, she said. You bit half of the biscuit and shoved it to Seokjin. He reluctantly accepts, touching only your knuckle. Aunt Shuma gave him a knowing smile, a secretive sly smile.
“If you’re moving next week, shouldn’t you be packing up half the cottage already?” you sat next to Seokjin on the only two-seater couch in the cottage. All cooped up and cozy. There is no television, very few items that indicate the present, most of the furniture are from the 60s it seems. It isn’t hard to see that she could be lying about moving.
“Who says I want to move?” Aunt Shuma frowned.
“Um, mom?” you replied.
“I will not do such a thing! Move back into condescending judgmental society, absolutely not,” she aggressively protests.
“So you lied to me? You told mom that you are going to move and you need my husband’s help and mine,” you argued, passing Seokjin the large cookie jar and he took it wordlessly.
“I told her that I want to see the person you got married to, I didn’t ask her to lie to you. I may have suggested that I was moving because how else are you going to come here if it hadn't been that? Not to mention the wedding I wasn’t invited to…” she crosses her arms, sulking. Something about a 40 year old auntie getting sulky strikes amusement.
“What was the hurry, you’re not even pregnant…” she mutters to her chest before barking at Seokjin, “Why do you want my niece that fast!”
You sighed loudly, “I’m in love with him and I don’t want to leave another day without him… I just,” you glanced at him briefly, “He makes me feel complete.”
Seokjin’s throat went dry at the view of you smiling at him and saying those words.
“Are you starring in a fake marriage romantic comedy? Did you rehearse that line before you came here?”
Gulped. Can she see right through you?
Seokjin scrambles to sit at the edge of the sofa, putting aside the cookie jar and clearing his throat.
“Are you happy that you’ve taken my niece from me, boy?” she spat. She squinted her eyes at the poor young man who was unsure how to react to that question. He never had aunties who had conversations with him apart from wanting to know if his mom was looking for volunteers for her charity work.
“Aunt Shuma you’re being mean to him,” you warned, sipping the piping hot tea.
“Just making sure you aren’t married to a pussy,” Aunt Shuma blatantly replied, immediately.
“So what happened to the guys you chatted on Tinder with?” you changed the topic.
She reclines into the couch, retching in disgust, “Never again, child.” Aunt Shuma continued to tell how she encountered some promising good looking guys who have a foot fetish. Some are way younger than Seokjin, wanting a cougar, asking her for money at every turn.
“It was a freaking nightmare,” she downed the rest of the tea that’s now run cold, “I deleted the app after a week.”
Then she smacks her lips and places her hand together, “Say, Seokjin isn’t it? You sail?”
“He does…” you answered.
“Let the boy answer, he has a mouth don’t he?” Aunt Shuma scolded you.
“I do,” he smiled.
Aunt Shuma says when the day clears and it usually does after the heavy rain, she has to sail the boat. It’s been awhile since it has sailed on. After she had back injuries, she didn't take the boat out to sail anymore. And that was under your advice. She lives alone in a small cottage by the lake stemming to the sea with the nearest neighbor being almost 2 hours away by road.
Dinner was grilled potatoes, egg-drop soup and warm rice. It was hearty. Fulfilling. Albeit so simple. It was probably the simplest dinner Seokjin ever had. But it was wholesome. Maybe the lighthearted conversation and the environment makes him feel welcomed. Some laughter filled the night, and the talk continued as the bowl dried up.
Almost nothing is left. No wonder you said you would live like Aunt Shuma if you weren’t in the city having to live up to bills and working. Aunt Shuma has everything in this land of hers. She is carefree and debt free. It’s easy to be happy when nothing is holding you on the pedestal. A roof over the head, food on the table, fire for cold nights— is all human need.
You told Aunt Shuma how Seokjin helped pay your mother’s bills and now she is moved to a better hospital with better doctors. Your father is also getting a small compensation for the injuries he sustained when he was working in his old place. He is starting a small workshop with what he has. You didn’t forget to include Seokjin and his housing project.
“What’s the system,” you froze momentarily and Seokjin reminds you of it with a little whisper, “Solar green eco system, yes!” Tiredness is looming over you, Seokjin could see.
“It was brilliant, you should have seen the presentation. It has 4D drawings and literally, the audience was walking through the actual dimension. Before Seokjin showed up, I thought he was lying about it, but it was so real… Investors really liked that part,” you gawked in pride. Seokjin saw the smile you wore. It was the first time he had ever felt appreciated for something he worked hard for. All the hours he spent on that project, the insults— no longer hurt him. Not when he saw the smile it brought you.
After dinner, Aunt Shuma showed you your room. It was your old room and there is a queen-sized bed with an embarrassing pink lamp. She had littered the room with crochets of all sizes and designs. You zoomed into the familiar blanket in the middle of the bed.
Gasping at it, you jumped on the bed and hugged it. You looked at her wide-eyed, “You kept this?? But it was so small, I didn’t manage to finish it!”
She leaned by the doorsill with her arms crossed, wearing a big smile on her face, “You did finish it, but it was way too small for you right now, so I added some more squares.”
You hugged the blanket and looked at her. Seokjin sets the bag on the floor.
“I don’t know if it will fit you both, but I have to warn you that it can be very cold at night,” Aunt Shuma warns, “I’m sure sharing a blanket isn’t new for you two…” she winked and leave the room with a nonchalant but meaningful goodnight.
“I knitted it for my teddy, I wanted him to have a blanket so he doesn’t get cold so Aunt Shuma taught me how to knit a little bit, so I did the ugly part of it, I think…” you drifted as you searched for the part you knitted, “Here!” It was poorly proportioned and the knots were questionable, and wasn’t as neat as the others but it’s heart was in the right place.
Seokjin disappears into the showers. You prepared his pajamas and yours. You try not to think about sharing the bed too much. It will only make you stressed out and so far, Seokjin has been harmless. You hate to admit it but, you’ve been the best of friends. Sure he is still unfiltered when he says anything, but he wasn’t as repulsive as before. He was there when you fainted and you remembered his voice as he chanted your name for you to come awake. He held your hand through the crowd at the investors party and helped you finish the champagne you couldn’t drink. He lets you touch his face when he shouldn’t have easily done so, in the past.
He continues to ask you about your dreams daily. One time you had a bad day at uni and said your dream was to pause life and he brought a LIFE board game and put it on pause. He takes it too literally sometimes, it annoys you. But to think that a busy man like him making stupid time for your stupid dreams was enough to bring butterflies into your stomach. You caught yourself smiling while you folded his clothing neatly into the laundry basket. Frowning immediately, you unfold them as reality sets in. Don’t get it twisted; it is all pretend.
⸻
“Have you ever realized that when we both got married, we literally knew nothing about each other’s family we thought we knew?” you walked behind his larger built to the pier leading up to the boat, “Well considering that it was unplanned because I got on the ship not thinking I’d get married when I got off.” Seokjin walks straight ahead carrying a new set of ropes to change and some cleaning tools as instructed by Aunt Shuma.
“Both of our parents married each other not knowing much about each other and look how fucked up we turned out to be,” Seokjin throws the rope on the pier and takes the picnic bag from you. He lunges easily into the floating vessel, holding out his hand for you to take.
“I used to be really scared of marriage,” you confessed as you hopped in while Seokjin unlocked the cabin with the keys Aunt Shuma gave, “Mom said she held on dad’s arm while dissing his whole siblings and he called out on her side of the family too… like, how can you be so awful to the family your partner is a part of. But now that I’ve seen your family, I understand why.”
Seokjin chuckles, “You dragged that poor uncle of mine.”
“He was begging for it,” you walked into the cabin and Seokjin followed after.
Everything was dusty. You hurried to the window and let some air in. A glance at Seokjin and he collects the picnic bag and goes outside where the large flat foredeck was. It makes much more sense to eat here rather than there.
Several hours ago, before the sun was up.
Aunt Shuma came knocking an hour before dawn to say that she had cooked breakfast. After showering, she said she had the breakfast packed in a picnic bag and pushed you both to the door. You know your way to the pier so you directed Seokjin from behind because he was carrying all the heavy loads of cleaning tools. Aunt Shuma said she isn’t coming because of the back pain she had. And you didn’t argue. Watching you two waddle to the pier, Aunt Shuma was on the phone with your mother.
“I see what you mean,” she agrees, “I woke them up and instead of being entangled in the sheets, they are sleeping on opposite sides of the bed with a pillow fort in the middle. You’re right, there’s no spark of passion but the attraction is there..” Seokjin slips on the path and you laugh hysterically instead of helping. Seokjin then responded with a glare. Aunt Shuma sandwiches her phone between her shoulder and ear.
“I took their phones already and there is an emergency phone in the boat in case they need help,” she adds, “There’s ample food packed and the stove is working. Give it a couple of days, we’ll see what happens…” she walks into her cottage, “It’s just so strange that there was no noise all night…”
On the boat.
Seokjin took out a black case.
“What’s that?” you asked and he showed that it was a camera, the one that uses film, “I haven’t seen one of those in a while! Where did you get that?” It must have been Aunt Shuma. She stores all those antique things. Seokjin seems to know his way around it.
“I don’t really remember but this button should do it,” he mutters to himself and successfully opens the dock in the camera where the film cartridge should be inserted. While he was getting well involved in the film camera, you watched him in silence. Your hands are busy preparing the plates and taking out all the things Aunt Shuma packed for both of you.
“She’s cut up watermelons… Oh I love these candies,” you spoke to yourself.
Seokjin snaps the film in and looks through the viewfinder where you are. His forefinger curls over the camera and his finger pad on the shutter button. Click.
“I guess she packed raw materials for lunch too,” you huffed, “Is she expecting for us to cook here?” Rummaging through the things in the bag, “This is enough for a week. Seokjin, are you listening to me? Put down the camera and panic with me.”
“Wait a sec,” Seokjin took a picture of the horizon and joined you, “What… What is it?”
You pointed to him the things your aunt packed.
“And we don’t have a phone to contact all the people out there,” you nagged while Seokjin shoved a sandwich in his mouth before unlatching the boat from the pier, “How are you so chill about this?” You picked yourself from the floor, chomped down the other half of the sandwich from Seokjin and stood next to the handrail, about to catch on the pier. Seokjin pushed the boat from the pier easily.
“Seokjin!”
With half of the sandwich hanging from his mouth, he turns to you with a boring look in his eyes. His hand busily collects the ropes neatly and has it stacked in the corner. Impatient, you snatched the sandwich from his mouth, “We can’t sail!”
“Did you knock your head over concrete or something? You can’t but I can sail, sit down,” he spoke through mouthful, “Don’t worry, you have me.”
“I worry the most because it’s you…” you grumbled back to where you were seated. Seokjin tuts his tongue. Half of his body disappeared in the navigation station to turn the engines on. As it hurls on and the propellers begin throttling.
“She sounds beautiful,” Seokjin jests.
“Alright Mr. Boat man,” you rolled your eyes, “If anything happens to me, there is no money in my bank.”
Seokjin directs the boat out the lake and to the sea, there are several boats out there but there is considerable distance between each one. The engine is now stopped and all there is is the breeze of the early morning. He joins you not long after that.
The boat is slowly rocking at every strike of gentle waves. The sounds of birds and waves filled your ears and you’ve never felt so peaceful. Seokjin was quiet too. Both of you are looking at the horizon, to see how far it goes. It is one of those moments that makes you feel so small. There are a couple of clouds in the sky. You hugged your knees. It makes you feel that your problems are small. An escape from reality. Without phones, without technology, you’re forced to listen to nature and the hymn is inviting. Had you let your fear consume you, you would have never seen a view like this.
“You haven’t told me your dream today…” Seokjin said.
“I’ll tell you before midnight, I promise. I can’t think of any right now,” you wiped away imaginary dust from your toes. With the way you both were ushered out the room this morning, there is so little time to even text him your dream. Then Aunt Shuma took your phone and his.
⸻
The seats were wiped. The dust is gone. The stove was cleaned. She is good as new. It was pretty well-maintained despite not being used a lot. Seokjin installed the new glass window to replace the old broken ones. It is half past noon and you went under the shades to rest. Seokjin washes his face and hangs a fishing rod. It’s easy to see that he plans to fish. You’ll take a nap and wake up later to read a book you brought with you.
An hour passed.
Seokjin is writing something. Using the pen and a piece of parchment paper he found in the docking area. You woke up to see him earnestly writing on the front of the boat. With his back hunched over. Wind striking his hair. His broad shoulders. Sitting on the floor, next to the rod. Wonder what he is writing about and to whom. He seemed very serious about it too. You’re glad that he is out instead of being cooped up in his office. At least there is a view and no people around. Leaning against the seat inside the navigation area, you opened the book you’ve been meaning to read.
Time moves so slow.
Seokjin cooked fried eggs and warmed up soup from the cans. You had to share a bowl because Aunt Shuma only packed one. One spoon, one fork, one bowl.
“I think Aunt Shuma is setting us up…” you darted.
“Of course she is.” Seokjin blurted emotionlessly.
“Did you fish something out?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t know why you fish, you hardly ever catch anything…”
“It’s not about catching anything…”
You look at him, half chewing.
“It’s teaching me patience. It’s teaching me to wait, to want to wait. That when the time comes, it’ll come. And if you don’t catch anything, at least you tried. It’s not about catching a fish— it’s nothing about catching anything at all. It’s forcing me to wait,” he explains. You finally understand. You imagined being in his shoes where everything had to be at lightning speed, and ridiculous expectations placed on him. He had to be in a certain way, had to act a certain way. Every move is calculated. Seokjin was an anxious being. And everyone tends to forget that he was only 30-something.
He has been catching the ideals his whole life. He had been restlessly filling up the areas people told him he was lacking. When you keep listening to others without knowing yourself, you end up draining yourself to fill the mold others create for you. It can be very tiring, unfulfilling and damaging. People would put thoughts in you, put words in your mouth that sometimes you lose yourself in the process— if you’re not careful. Seokjin is surrounded by people that want to be him, if not wanting a piece of him or what he has. You were no different. Looking at him from this light of sunset, your heart thudded sadly.
Why are you sad though?
Parents lived in a loveless marriage for years, this should have been easy. Why is it not?
Looking at him feels like stargazing. He’s like the moon. There’s a side of him you will never know. But isn’t he so remarkably mesmerizing?
Without you knowing, you started to pretend even when no one is around. Seokjin turns to you as if he heard your thoughts. His eyes glanced to your lips then back up to your eyes. You cleared your throat and thumbed where his bruises were. You put your face close to him and said that you were looking at his disappearing bruises. The boat rocks violently, and his hand flies to your waist to hold you steady. Nose clashing. Your visions blurred from how close he was. Winds striking softly. He fixed your hair but didn’t move away. His lips are parted. The time stills. Ticking by.
So, what happens to the girl no one falls in love with? She takes any love she can get her hands on.
Even if its not real.
.
.
.
.
To be continued…
Copyright © July 2nd, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading :)
Author's Note: Sorry it's been a month since its last updated. My school semester ended last June 23rd and I took 1 week off from everything. Now I have another half of the final year left, I'm still looking for a place to do my internship, no luck finding one yet since I hate making calls. I hope this finds you in the pink of health, I hope you missed Heir Seokjin because I sure did. He's not an ass anymore and his actions and words don't really match. I just love this chapter because its really warm and fuzzy and intimate. Let's not forget about the connection between Ian and Rachel because we will carry that to the next chapter. Until then, with much love.
#the money project#: tmp#thekimlinenetwork#bts net#bangtan net#bangtan network#kim seokjin#seokjin bts#bts seokjin#jin fanfic#jin fic#bts fanfic#bangtan fics#seokjin fics#seokjin x you#seokjin x yn#reader insert#seokjin fanfiction#ksj fics
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the money project | 6
↳ pairing seokjin x you
↳ genre melodrama, angst, enemies-to-friends-to-lover, fake marriage, intense pining on each other
↳ words 7.5k
↳ warning strong languages, fluff, suggestive content, explicit
↳ song ‘marmalade’ by nep, ‘postcard’ by troye sivan ft. gordi, ‘car’s outside’ by james arthur,
↳ chapters one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten completed!
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He went from,
“If you just kept calm and be the dirt-poor you”
“...a spoiled brat”
“You’re so blinded by money that you probably wanted this to happen!”
“You get your money, I get my spot as his son back. Win-win…”
“You think with your face, you could get around with a face like mine?”
And then,
“And you decide this all without talking to me?”
“Do you always make decisions on impulse? On intuition?”
“The money I pay you will come soon, will that help you keep this house?”
“Next time, discuss with me.”
“Be it financial, commodities, utilities, whatever. You talk to me first.”
It’s difficult to comprehend that all these contradicting words came from the same person. The more you think about it, the crazier you become. An immersive but gradually fleeting thought, like a hand grabbing air, inches away from the rope. The foundation of this home is hollow.
Seokjin strokes his chin at the view of the finishing. Wedding band on his ring finger as he bores into the mechanics while the blueprint is spread on the table. At the top of the blue print, ‘The Money Project’ is clearly written.
The investors dinner worked. Money coming in. Seokjin is moving to the next house, but he just wanted the bedroom done. Unlike the rest of the areas in the house where he was heavily invested in, Seokjin told the designers to do whatever they want with it. Because you were love— simplified.
⸻
That sunset on the boat,
“Postcards,” you suddenly blurted. Just before Seokjin’s lips could touch yours.
“My dream is to receive a postcard from someone,” you return to your spot and look down to the floorboards next to the empty plate.
“Like from other countries?” He darted back. You collect the used dishes together while listening to his words, “It doesn’t have to. Just postcards in general.”
It was so strange. Now Seokjin spends most of his teenage years in countries scattered around the world. He has tutors travelling with him when his parents need to be in these countries to do their businesses. It was when Seokjin turned 12 that they decided the company will be permanently based in Germany. But Seokjin continued to travel the world with his art-loving mother. His mother thought that it would distract him from the separation his parents are going through. He passed by airport areas and would see postcards on the stands and asked if he could buy some. His mother would ask him who he wants them to be sent to and he would reply, he is just buying because of the picture on them.
You said, “I don’t know, you might think it’s ridiculous but, I want to know how it feels like to be remembered. Imagine someone who is strolling down a street, came across a pretty postcard and felt like giving it to somebody,” your hands are covered with soap and you are washing the dishes while Seokjin leans by the doorway, holding onto the camera Aunt Shuma gave him and changing the film. Clicks.
“And you happen to be that somebody and you read what they thought about and it’s all for you…” your voice drifted.
Seokjin tuts his tongue and lays on his stomach on top of the bed in the boat, “People get postcards because it is the cheapest souvenir,” he darted bluntly. You shot a glare to the side and your shoulders dropped. He really has a knack of making people feel sad instantly. Sometimes you wish you could just pinch him.
“Wow, I wonder where that smart-mouth went when Uncle Devil was around,” you replied to him. You set the bowl to the side and every other dishware in the box where it doesn’t risk being broken. Seokjin doesn’t reply. Too consumed with the cameras to even bother with you. He looks like a huge kid with a newfound toy that he is obsessed with. The night is coming. It feels longer now that you have no phone to kill time. All you have is Seokjin and he doesn’t really look bored apart from the occasional yawning.
“Wanna play a game?” he huffs and sits. One leg underneath him, the other hanging to the boat floor. You sat on the tiny counter and crossed your legs.
“Sure.”
Seokjin takes you outside and lined up cans of beer Aunt Shuma packed. Not sure why it was there but Seokjin doesn’t want it to go to waste. There is also a pack of carton juice. So it’s beer for him and juice for you.
“Truth or drink… familiar?” Seokjin snaps one beer can open with his forefinger.
“You tell the truth and if you can’t, you drink. Yeah I am familiar,” you explained to him to let him know that it's not strange to you. You’ve gone to college and college parties always have that ice-breaking game.
“Round 1,” Seokjin starts, “How are we wrong for each other?”
The provocation is sharp. You eyed the juice but felt like a beer would actually be better for you. He tilts his head back and cracks his neck, waiting for your answer. Drinking only makes you feel like a coward and you are overthinking this. Let’s just state the obvious.
“Where do I even start,” you chuckled dryly, “We come from a very different world.”
Seokjin waits. He hopes his sharp disarming gazes would coerce an explanation from you. It worked.
“I think it's obvious, you flag it out in the open every time we meet. That itself is self-explanatory,” you shrugged and wore a small smile, “My turn,” you hummed, “What is something you’re struggling with that no one knows about?”
Seokjin weighed on it a little, but his arms extended to the opened can of beer, so you protested.
“No fair!” you snatched the can of beer before he could.
He snatches it anyway, “You know about it now…” a glimmer in his eyes when he looks at you, he turns away and gulps down half of the bitter liquid and smacks his lips together. And you knew it was about the incident in the investor’s night. He had kept that secret for almost 30 years. That amount of abuse looming in a prestigious family was unheard of and it is understandably why. It gives obvious bad rapport and media shuns.
“You just want to get drunk,” you accused him lightly. He could have answered the question with just a drink but he decides to offer a context for you. Or you’re just intuitively transparent.
“Okay, how many kids are too many kids? How many will you have?” He grabs a peanut from its half-opened foil and waits for your answer. You hummed while thinking. It really struck you that you never ever thought about it. It was always about the family and making sure everyone is fed.
“I don’t know…” you slumped your shoulders and frowned in confusion, “I never actually thought about it to be honest with you. Maybe, two or three? Depends?”
Seokjin chuckles, “On what?”
“I don’t know?” your hands fly around, “His stamina, I guess? Dude, I just never thought about it, of course I have to think about the financial standings, if we are able to reproduce and I want to make sure that me and him can afford having kids, you know? That is if we’re talking once our deal is done and I marry a guy I actually love.” You explained. Felt the need to add that extra information because why not.
Seokjin’s smile faltered a little. Of course you wouldn’t notice. It was gone as quick as it came.
“Describe me in three words,” you darted in one breath while fetching a peanut.
Seokjin contemplated. His eyes flicker to the floorboard next to you then to your knees and back to the view of the calm ocean.
“Rambunctious. Intimidating. Observant,” he said but he didn’t look at you once. He only turned to you when he was done.
“Wow, I feel like a maleficent,” you joked, “Thank you, I guess? I get the intimidating one more frequently than you thought… so I was kind of surprised I ended up with some friends in college. Then I realized Ian and Suri were intimidating too… Oh yeah! I’ve been meaning to ask, how does Rachel know Ian? And how did Ian know you?”
Seokjin sat up, crumpled the empty can of beer in one hand and sighed heavily. He straightens his back and his eyes travel far as he recalls the first time he met Ian.
“I am guessing Ian or Christian never really told you who he really is,” his voice drawled, “He is Uncle Devil’s bastard son.”
The look on your face was unmistakable. The reveal was unkind and unexpected. Having to hear it from someone you hadn’t known for long felt strange. It also felt rather overboard, considering how penetrative that information could be. The media would have a spring day with that. It also felt strange that you know the inside scoop of one of the most respected conglomerate family circles. Your old colleague who was your best friend was Seokjin’s first cousin.
“Nobody wanted him to carry the Kim’s family name, so he carried his mother’s hence, Christian Yu,” he reached for another can of beer, “For reasons obvious to all. That’s why I know about the wedding, and I know about your financial standings, your part-time jobs and all that shit… Ian sometimes hangs out with us at the club.”
“You guys gossiped about me?”
“Not all the time, and Ian’s whatever,” Seokjin tips his head back and drinks some more, “Ian and I went to an all-boys school abroad, and we hung out in places doing girls and drinking… Nothing more…” he looked up and to the side at you but you were in a state of shock, “Listen. It was all in the past, now we hardly talked. I stopped talking to him after I caught him with my girlfriend, I mean ex-girlfriend, Rachel. And about the sex video that she took and he kept,” Seokjin explains, “I do dumb shit okay, I do dumb shit all the time, that’s why my dad hates me.”
For you, it avalanches. You wondered just how much more humiliating your life could be that it became an entertainment for a certain group of people that you trusted your life with. What abode was it for you to tell Ian things you wouldn’t have told anyone and entrusted him? You pictured Suri, Rachel, Ian— laughing, making a joke out of the hard life you lived. Now you pictured Seokjin. The fake marriage was charity work for him. And now when you begin to fall for him, it all comes too clear that it was just you.
Seokjin called your name once, twice and three times. A smile jolted out of you as if you were caught daydreaming.
“You okay?” he asked, tenderly.
You nodded reassuringly, but inside, your ribs are crushing your lungs and you wished your life ended right there and then.
And just then, a switch in you turned off.
“I was just thinking that… your dad doesn’t hate you,” you sang, “You worked so hard for him to hate you and that’s understandable. You wanted attention. You wanted him to see you. It didn’t matter what form; good or bad. You just wanted him to see you.” Seokjin’s heart tugged. He felt incredibly heard and seen. When you described his entire teenage life in a sentence, he felt the piece of the puzzle fits in. And he felt it.
He felt love. Now he wants to know how you feel about him.
“Your turn… sorry, my question about Ian made you explain,” you huffed, reaching for the can of beer instead of juice which irked Seokjin. He even held it from you.
“It’s okay,” you giggled, “It’s fine.”
He lets you have it. He clears his throat before he begins, “In what ways have you used me?”
You gave him a lopsided smile and a head tilt, “Explicitly?”
He widens his eyes at you, in shock. He watches you downed half of the beer.
“Are you seriously surprised? After we fucked that night in the ship, I literally cannot go to sleep without thinking about you… there I said it, I masturbated to the thought of you fucking me,” you looked down to the floor, then up to him, “Then I feel terrible, disgusted with myself. Ashamed.” You wanted to hurt him. A hesitant flicker in his eyes. It’s hard to see if your plans worked. His ears' helix turned red.
“My turn,” you sneered, “Who is the last person who saw your dick…”
Seokjin cheeks deflated. It’s called truth or drink. He has to tell the truth or drink. He snatches a new can, downed the entire can and crumpled it like it was paper. You chewed the insides of your cheek and looked down to your lap. The silence was so loud. Of course. Of course he has slept with someone else. It is hard to picture someone that looks like Seokjin, having the body like Seokjin, the money and the charms of Seokjin and not have someone he is able to fuck readily. To be honest to yourself, it was hardly a deal breaker. Lots of married couples seek outside the home adventures they couldn’t have with their partner at home.
The sole fact of his infidelity should not have hurt.
And yet.
It did.
“I… once,” he replied, “It was just once, I promise.” Why is he reassuring you? He doesn’t know and it slipped out of his mouth before his brain could process it.
“Not interested,” you shot him down, “You rich people had always been crazy. You come from a broken family, you turned outwardly normal, that’s good enough…”
“Are you… wait,” he gave it a quick thought, “Are you angry?”
“Of course not,” you shrugged, “Why would I? Whomever you are fucking does not concern me… you’re not that hot to me…”
Seokjin arched an eyebrow at you, “Oh is that why you touch yourself thinking about me? Because I’m not ‘that hot’ to you?”
“Give me a break, you’re the only one I have ever slept with okay…” you rolled your eyes and your head, protesting at his alarming accusation that is potentially detrimental to your reputation.
“Ever heard of porn?” he takes another sip of the beer, now feeling rather hot in his vein. He is not sure if it's the topic or the beer or both.
“Yeah, but I hate it. The dialogue is whack and the set up is always trying to make sure the pussy is in the camera frame and it just spoils my mood so I gave up on it,” you finished a can of beer and took another. Seokjin actually agreed to that. They can make it look so cheap. So undesirable.
“Tell me one truth,” you added.
“I think about it,” he blinks to the view of the opening of the can, “About us.”
It was strange, hearing it from him, in that calm and warm tone of voice, with that softness in his eyes and the way his lips looked even more plump in this dim light. You leaned your head back and your eyes half-lidded. A part of you wants to know where he is taking this conversation, another part of you wants to jump in the cold water because of the alcohol and to avoid it.
“I try to remember how you taste, how you felt, how you smell… and I can’t openly ask you that because you’ll just shut me down,” Seokjin hummed to himself, “To tell you the truth, I…” and he turned to you. Snoozing.
You were sleeping. You had fallen asleep in mere seconds after the third can of beer. How is this even possible?! Seokjin leans over to you. One palm rested to the wall next to your head, the other next to the cushion where you sat. He had you lay down on the bed, and covered you in a blanket. He hangs his head low, with his hand on the handle bar, thinking.
One truth?
I love you.
Aunt Shuma waves at you, being carried in Seokjin’s arms. You waved back, with a big smile on your face and looking astoundingly happy. Seokjin however didn’t share the same enthusiastic energy. The man set you down on the wooden bench and placed the picnic bag on the side.
“What’s happened?” The elderly lady asked.
“Someone sprained her ankles standing on a perfectly flat ground,” Seokjin eyed you.
You rolled your eyes up and to the side, “We were on a wobbly boat for a whole day! It needs some getting used to…”
“Thank goodness for Seokjin’s capable arms, I wouldn’t have imagined what would happen if it weren’t for him,” Aunt Shuma eyed you and winked. You furrowed your brows in confusion. Aunt Shuma watches Seokjin’s nimble hand studying the sprain as if he had experienced handling one before. Feeling Aunt Shuma’s eyes on him, Seokjin glances at her briefly and returns to your tiny feet.
“I used to play soccer,” he sounded so small, almost like a little kid, “I got sprained a lot.”
“What do we do?” Aunt Shuma asked.
“Ice, we need ice,” he said. Aunt Shuma takes out some ice cubes and places them in a bag. Seokjin tenderly dabs it on the sprained area that’s turning red and swelling. Your hand flew to his shoulder and gripping on it hard, it left marks on his porcelain skin. Goosebumps rose along his forearms. You hissed and bit your lips, breathing out through your nose.
“S-seokjin,” you whimpered. He gulped. Cold sweat beads in his forehead and in between his shoulder blades. Clouds of pink floated in his head before he shook it off.
“Shut up,” he spat.
“You shut up,” you shot, “It’s painful you dumbass.”
“That’s why be careful before you step into things…” he muttered angrily.
“I didn’t know the stone was going to roll, it’s called an accident for a reason,” you swat his hands away, “If you don’t want to help, then don’t. I got this.”
You stood up, clutching on the wooden bench, the walls and the door panels— hanging one leg up behind you, leaving Seokjin behind with the ice bag in his hand. You crawled on all four realizing it’s faster that way, and that’s when your aunt crossed her arm at you.
“You’re like a clone,” she refers to your mother and if she fights with your dad, she will take matters into her own hands and insist on solving her problems her own way— very much like you’re doing, right now. She rushed out the door and poke her head out and Seokjin who is cleaning up after. Emptying the bag containing the melted ice and collecting the picnic bag with all the washed dishes.
“Come inside Seokjin, you left something behind in my kitchen, crawling on all fours,” she jests. Seokjin jogs over, like a good boy he is. Aunt Shuma also returns the phones, much to your dismay. The events that occur next are pretty much expected of Seokjin. He gets multiple missed calls, some urgent emails and documents that need looking into.
“There seems to be a problem with the investments coming from outside the country,” you overheard the phone calls, and Seokjin replied, “I understand, the board of members be rest assured that the agreement will soon follow after we host a meeting,” pauses, “Yes I am aware of the stock return and price fluctuation, the commodities are stock-price dependent… you and I both know that there’s no instant fix to that until the situation subsides…” Seokjin’s voice grew increasingly sturdy. Whoever is on the other end of the line was clearly impatient and unhappy. Seokjin was at the blunt end, becoming this person’s punching bag. The expression he wore was unsettling. He looks at you over his shoulders, hesitantly.
“Hmm, I know that look,” you hiked breathes in through your teeth, “It’s the we-can’t-stay-any-longer look,” you explained to Aunt Shuma. You begin to move your ankle and the sprain has subsided, thanks to Seokjin’s massages and ice pack. You climbed up the stairs to your old room and started packing your things while Seokjin was still on the phone. You glanced around the room, feeling nostalgic. Wearing a small smile on your lips. Your aunt followed after you.
“Your parents had the most tumultuous marriage,” she began reminiscing, “When I saw how reckless your dad spending was, I got really worried and I know that your mother felt what I was thinking about, the outcomes. We just never said anything,” she folded Seokjin’s hoodie and handed it to you. You dropped your gaze to the hoodie and fit them in the luggage bag you and Seokjin shared. It was true, what she said. Your childhood was rather bleak in memory. You remember being in multiple places at once, when the landlord throws you out. Your mother sent you to Aunt Shuma for four years and your brother to your grandfather. You had abandonment issues and you aren’t really sure if you grew out of it or just gotten used to pretending it never happened. Maybe the latter.
“You might not realize this but that boy out there,” she points her chin outwards where Seokjin is, “He loves you. His words might not reflect it but let me tell you this,” she leans down to you, “His actions do.” She bopped your nose like she always did when you were younger. She folds the knitted blanket and hands them to you. Your eyes trailed up to her.
“You’re all grown up now,” she said through a broken voice and eyes brimming with tears, “I am so happy for you.” You stood up slowly and hugged her tightly. You know she is lonely. You know that this little cottage and the little boat was all she had left after her husband passed away from pneumonia, the day you went to high school. She had been reclusive ever since, unable to verbally describe her feelings, too focused on hiding the pain rather than dealing with it. Which reminds you of yourself. Aunt Shuma understands you the most, and to have not invited her to the wedding felt wrong— criminal even.
You expressed your apology in the hug and aching to tell the truth about how the wedding came to be but, Seokjin knocked on the door and spoiled the moment by saying, “It was raining outside and inside too?” Aunt Shuma sputtered while crying and invited him into the hug as well. Seokjin managed to slip in a small apology note whilst the hug and it was accepted by Aunt Shuma with a price— the next visit will be much longer.
⸻
He slips his plane ticket in between the pages of his passport. His Rayban glasses folded in his breast pocket and you stood up when he arrived where you were seated. There was hardly anyone around the airport at this time of the year. With the pandemic not seeing an end, travels are banned. Seokjin however, was a special case. It is safe to say that if he doesn’t set foot in Germany as soon as possible to save the company, half of the South Korean economic growth will prepare for a permanent collapse.
He sits and you follow.
Seokjin rests his elbows on his knees, manspreading on the bench. His eyes wandered as far as they could into the wide window view overlooking the runway.
“A penny for your thought,” you gushed, not wanting to leave without a conversation to remember. Well, not wanting him to leave without a conversation to remember— seems more appropriate. He looks to the side where you weren’t, where the jumbo jets are preparing for flight and some airplanes are parked for the next flight.
“Don’t sprain your ankles when I’m not around…” he blinks to the floor, “Don’t forget to eat your medications… Don’t overwork yourself.”
“Mr. Kim Seokjin, are you worried about me?” you turned your head to the side at him with a smile toying at the tips of your lips. Seokjin responds to the question by leaning back to the chair, gliding his eyes to you and tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, gently.
“It’s hard not to,” he thought. He thumbed your cheek and squeezed it like he would, a child.
“If I hear anything from Yoongi,” Seokjin warned while grinding his teeth together, “You will get it from me…”
“Get what?” you taunted, with playful eyes. Leaning forward and tipping your head to one side. You sit there, close enough to take a lungful whiff of his Diptyque Philosykos and he responds with the same energy, only an inch away from each other’s lips. His eyes dropped to your Cupid’s Bows and he wasn’t exactly trying to hide it. In fact, he wanted to get caught— staring too long, with his lips parted and his tongue peeping out like he was ready to let it glide in you should the circumstances allowed it. For now, that is. You weren’t ready to back out just yet, you wanted to challenge him. Wanted to see how long he’ll hold out. He tips his chin up ever so slightly and you move in sync, never backing away.
“Giving them something to stare at?” he arched an eyebrow, talking in slow murmurs against your lips.
“Giving you something to remember being five thousand miles away,” you enticed him.
“Five thousand and two hundred and two miles,” his voice drops an octave lower, breathing in, “Actually,” he bits his lips while keeping his eyes on you. You felt butterflies when he did that. Just a static disarming pool of nothingness, rising up your ribcage and dissipating at once. An old lady’s luggage fell to hit your backpack that you set on the floor next to your feet. The kind lady apologizes profusely for interrupting. But you and Seokjin both said that it was alright. Naturally you both scooted closer to each other to make more room for her, but less gaps between you two. Your side boob is pressed against his chest now as he is cornered with the arm rest. Your palm flew to his knee and rode up his thigh without you being aware.
The poor man is holding his breath for a hot minute while you lowered to the side where the lady was to grab your backpack. Too close. Too close to the crotch, he chanted. He begins breathing in very slowly, taking off his blazers. Fold it, and place it on his lap.
“Newly weds?” the old lady asked.
“Yes, how did you know?” you grinned.
“A hunch… What a lovely couple, honeymoon I suppose?” she asked, cinching her eyes to you and Seokjin next.
“No I’m afraid, this bad boy is leaving me,” you took your hand out from underneath his blazers and patted on top of the blazer instead.
Seokjin chuckles deeply, that deep rich-man chuckles, “Work is keeping us apart, you must excuse our intimacy.”
The old lady jests, kindly disapproving the reasoning because she believes that Seokjin should have “taken” you, his wife, “with him”.
“I’d love to, but…” he drags and his eyes trails to you, “We won’t get anything done.”
It’s his turn to fluster you now. He places his hand in between your thigh and grabs it shamelessly, “Can’t keep my hands off her…”
Your eyes widened to the front and you forced out a smile, “I am so so sorry…” but the kind old lady winked back. Seokjin took the chance of you turning away to stare into the shape of your ear shell and he whispered low in your ear, “hey…” you snapped your head at him at once. He wears a smoldering, encapsulating, undulating stare that reels you in. He takes your backpack from you and tells you to, “Zip your bags at all times,” in hushed tones. You felt the need to swallow the saliva that has been pooling in your mouth. Your throats, parched. Your panties, wet. And he had done close to nothing.
A familiar jingle reverberates through the speakers and a female announcer voice follows right after. It says, “Korean Air flight KR780, KR780 to Berlin is now ready for boarding through Gate A, Gate A.”
“This is me,” he takes his time standing up. The folded blazer still covers his front. He grabs the luggage handle, slips it upward easily with a mechanical click as you watch. You gave him a lopsided smile and in a swift, he held the back of your head and placed them on his chest briefly. He plants a kiss atop of your head and whispers, “Take care.” Then, he strides sideways to leave you behind. You watched his back grow smaller and smaller, the farther he gets. He makes his way to the first class gates and not once did he turn around to see you. He gets on the descending escalator and you continue to watch until his head completely disappears.
“Now, missus?” Yoongi asks.
“Not yet,” you place your palm on the window, looking at the jet that Seokjin boards, “I want to see it take-off… and then we can go.”
Seokjin burns his gaze outside the small window of the airplane. The ground crew directs the airplane to the right direction. Drilling a hole in the cement was Seokjin’s glare. He rests his head to the back of the chair, the spacious first class flying cabin with complimentary drinks set aside. He clenches his eyes shut but all he could see is you. He never realized how grounded you kept him. This is what they say about relationships, they burn slow like flaring embers on the edge of the paper. The time slows into a crawl, a miniscule, minute and fizzles. Your memories in fractions that fill his days, sibilates from his glass of sparkling water.
Recruiting a new CFO* is challenging. Bringing a new face into an old company could be a detrimental move but Seokjin is confident that the change will catapult the organization into a more data-friendly generation that are more prone to technological advancement— a corner Senior Kim isn’t particularly strong on. Seokjin understands more than the other dinosaur age board members that the company must continue to evolve in order to keep up with the changing world. Certain key performance index must be developed, more intelligent talent must be recruited— all this to refrain the establishment from growing stagnant and comfortable in the environment they are in. Seokjin seeks to evoke a new challenge, a new adventure for the company to enlarge. Seokjin is interested in broadening and sparking competition in the field.
*CFO refers to the Chief Financial Officer in charge of finance of a big corporation.
This movement was not necessarily supported by the older members of the board. And this, Seokjin knew. In fact, the breach and the coalition was regarded as a provocation to the existing tradition. Apart from Yoongi, there was only a small number of staff that were for the change. The others were too afraid to speak up or preferred to be in the safe area. The quiet altercation can be draining. Especially when you are standing alone. He has leaf through endless potential profiles suitable for the position but the closer he looks, the more restless he feels. Hours on end since he landed on the soil, he flips through the files and at the same time, he tries to attend meetings necessary for ‘The Money Project’ that is in progress as he travels.
He stayed in his suite, with his blazer on the bed. He turns on his MacBook, sifting through the paperwork. Top three buttons of his dress shirt unbutton, sleeves rolled up his elbow. He straightens up in the chair, elbow on the desk, another hand twirling the Parker pen he brought. He pursed his lips as his eyes scanned through the words— he would sometimes bury his fingers in his brown lock of hair, leaving it unruly and messy. He likes to tug on the roots because reading business plans can be taxing. The slight pain would remind him that he is very much alive. He orders a medium rare steak with extra gravy and some salad, and a bottle of wine to go with it.
As he slices through the juicy meat, his mind glides to the time he forced you to eat a medium rare steak in his favorite restaurant. He couldn’t forget the look on your face as you hesitantly opened your mouth as his fork waited. Your face contorted into disgust as you saw the blood dripping on the plate. Seokjin held his hand underneath your chin along with the fork loaded with the sliced meat.
“I put a lot of gravy on it, you won’t taste the blood,” Seokjin adds, “Open up, come on… Let’s go, we don’t have all day. Don’t think about it, I promise it tastes good…”
You shook your head like a child. If he wasn’t thinking about your anemic condition, would never want to force this on you. Since you wouldn’t eat chicken liver and spinach did not help much on the red blood cell counts, he had to resort to this. Under the advice of the doctor.
“Please,” he pleaded, “You can eat any ice cream you want right after you finish the plate…”
He kept gazing deep into your eyes, and you faltered a little. He felt hopeful when he saw your lips parted. He took your chin and forced it open. Your tongue slid out at the meat and he carefully fed you. He didn’t let his eyes leave the sight of your mouth enveloping the fork along with the meat and gravy dripping on the side of your lips. He thumbs the dripping sauce and slipped the same thumb into his lips all the while keeping his eyes on you chewing.
“Good girl,” he says in a deep guttural voice. His eyes flickered away but he felt the heat from your stares. And to this day, he regrets not making any move on that tension. But how was he to know if you wanted that?
Reeled back into the present, slicing into his meat, he chews slowly. Pushing the cart containing the empty plates outside the door of his room, he undresses to shower. The first sprinkle of warm shower on his face erases the gruelling day he’s had. Not fully, but it felt refreshing. He steps out of the shower with renewed energy. He has to rest now. His brain is at full capacity. It’s only 6pm but since he landed, he hasn’t been able to lie down. He fetches his phone from the bedside table that is charging and sees your text from hours ago. He hasn’t been able to reply immediately after he read it. You asked if he had landed. He exhaled through his nose and stared at the message until the sign ‘Online’ flickers underneath your name, indicating that you’re awake.
Isn’t it late there?
It’s 1 am in Seoul.
He bits his lips and taps the call button. He chanted, “Don’t answer, don’t answer, don’t answer…”
“...Hello?” Fuck. He sat up in the middle of his king-sized bed. He was wearing the robe still, right after the shower.
“Hey, I… didn’t think you’d pick up…” he explains, “It’s so late.”
“Oh, I’m carding through the children’s book to see the story line before I read them to the kids tomorrow,” you answered nonchalantly, “Did you get to the hotel safe?”
He hikes in a breath, “Yeah, I got to the hotel by the company’s car and is snug in my bed preparing for bed. I have a feeling that I won't be able to sleep well tonight…”
You tutted your tongue disapprovingly, “We agreed to take good care of ourselves when we’re apart,” you scolded him gently, “What’s wrong?”
Now it’s Seokjin’s turn to click his tongue. He shakes his head, shaking the wary thoughts away, only to keep you waiting for a reasonable explanation. He sighed, “Nothing… Well. Nothing that can be solved by staying up, I suppose.” He gathers himself and begins explaining about his plan to recruit a CFO and how challenging it was.
“So you’re meaning to say that, you’ve psyched yourself to believe that you might be making a mistake by wanting change in your establishments? By appointing this new figure in your traditional business board of members?” you caught every word he said and his current mental state. Both of which he appreciated. He leans his head on the headboard, sighing yet another time, “Yes…”
“I am not business savvy or whatever, that’s your specialty…” your voice trailed and he heard the pages flips, “But honestly, Seokjin, I think what you’re trying to do is great. Change is good. You don’t evolve by staying at the same spot…”
“Sure okay but what if it fails,” he lets his hand fall on the bed, thud.
“Bestie,” you shrink your voice, “It hasn’t happened yet… You’re worried about going into a pool that’s probably more shallow than you think…” you sang and you heard him sigh again.
“A lot of sighing today hmm,” you commented.
He lays on his back on the bed, Seokjin twitches a smile on the corner of his lips with a fist resting on his forehead while he has the phone on loudspeaker on his torso.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose hard.
After a brief silence, you called his name out and he replied with a soft “Mm…”
“Turn it to video call, I want to show you the drawing on the children's book I’m gonna read tomorrow…” you told him, “It’s so cute…”
“I don’t want to keep you up, it’s already so late,” he shakes his head and talks in slurs.
“I’ll read to you, you have to see it,” you insisted. He surrendered to your demands and all he saw was the book’s front page. You cheerfully greeted him with a finger heart through the video call, you have the camera pointed to what you’re facing instead of your face.
“It’s title is already so cute, I think the person who wrote it was a genius, it’s called, you ready?” you waited for him but Seokjin hoisted himself up to put on his boxers and shorts. You caught a glimpse of his expansive back and shoulders as he poke his head through the shirt hole. Then Seokjin returns to the call, laying on the stomach and prepping a pillow underneath him. He leans the phone against the headboard.
“I’m ready now,” he huffs.
“Okay, it’s called, ‘The Boy with One Strand of Hair.’ And this is him,” you showed him the drawing and he smiled till his eyes shrunk into a pair of crescents.
“Once upon a time, there lived a boy who had one strand of hair…” you began.
As the story progresses, Seokjin’s eyes begin to droop. You made sure to lower your voice as he begins to fall asleep. His head tilted to the side on the pillow and he looked like a little boy. You didn’t forget to screenshot his sleeping face to show him the next day. He looked like he needed the sleep. You hardly imagine he is able to snooze in foreign countries considering that he told you once that he takes time to get used to time zones and sleeping in unfamiliar places. But as far as you know, when he lays next to you, he sleeps well.
“He styles it, ties it— Does all the things anyone would do to a hair for the ones he had. He wouldn’t trade it for anything else. He learns that what he was given, he should be thankful and grateful for. No matter how little and how few. So the boy rejoices…
And he lives with his one strand of hair, happily ever after,” you closed the book and smiled to the video call where Seokjin is sleeping soundly.
“Goodnight, little Seokjin,” you whispered gently. The call ended.
⸻
The car door pulled shut. Seokjin’s long languid fingers unhook themselves from the handle and he set the back of his head on the head rest and he sighed. The car purrs away from the curb and into the main road. The thing about business is, business owners aren’t as busy as most people thought. Seokjin is just a small part of a larger corporation, but the part that is continuously evolving, in charge of all the strategic decisions and clarifying the ever changing objective of the company. Even though he was busy, he made a strange request.
“If you see a yellow mailbox, let me know,” Seokjin lulled his head to the side, “Stop the car and let me know.”
The driver did just that. A few minutes of driving, the driver found a strikingly yellow mailbox. Seokjin then slipped a rectangular card into the compartment that is labelled ‘International’. He did that over an hour of writing. His driver had to stop the engine from running and take a walk while he was writing. He wrote it with a lot of difficulty it seems.
His nose was deep into the files and emails he printed from the developers of the housing, when he heard his phone vibrate. Your name flashes on top.
He wiped his hand on the back of his trousers and answered it. He grins and about to make a smart comment about it, was going to tease you about it until he heard sniffing. His smile vanishes immediately. He slowly sat on the edge of the bed, the few pieces of paper in his hand set aside as there is a more pressing matter to be addressed.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I called you, I shouldn’t have… why did you answer, you must be so busy, and I am bothering you, gosh, you know what, bye…” the call ended.
Seokjin took his phone off his ear and dialed your number instantly.
“What happened?”
“I… When I was younger,” your voice sounds nasally, “My mom brought me and my brother to my aunts and uncles' houses and when we arrived there, their spouse would accuse us of asking for money from them… and that mom brought us there so they pitied us and all we ever did was ask for money, food, shelter…”
Seokjin wasn’t sure where you were but he heard the clicks of your heels on the concrete road, the sound of vehicles passing and strong gusts of wind now and then.
“So there's this one uncle who hates us so much that when we arrive at his doorsteps, he shuts the door in our faces and stays really quiet until we leave. The last time we came, it was raining heavily and my little brother fell ill and even then, he still wouldn’t open the door. Mom begged him over and over again and still, he wouldn't open the door…” you added, “I saw him today at the hospital. He had a stroke and couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I stood by his bed while his eyes widened at the sight of me and I knew that he recognized me…”
Seokjin dropped his head low, pressed the phone to his ear and stayed silent.
“Is it wrong that I relished in his sufferings? I was delighted to see him strapped in bed, with a urine bag attached on him, as he moans and struggles to eat. Thinking about what he did to my mother and my brother and how disgusted he was at the sight of us… asking for basic necessities? I asked him; what’s it's like to depend on others now? And I just got out of there… And I felt so cruel, so despicable and hated myself to the point that I fucking cried…”
“I’ve waited years to say that and when I finally did, it felt… numb. Void. Like nothing…” you sobbed. Seokjin slowly blinked at the view in front of him. He gulped, jaw clenched. He wipes his hand over his face and exhales through his nose.
.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued…
Copyright © July 10th, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading :)
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bones | nj
↳ pairing namjoon, reader
↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship
↳ words 3.0k
↳ summary namjoon’s only dream is to change the world, and sometimes when he couldn’t, he would turn to no one. even as it eats him up, spit him out and left him lifeless. the greatest mistake in love is to hand someone else the responsibility to your happiness, but is it really a mistake?
↳ warning depression; loosely inspired by the recent the return of superman show
↳ song shawn mendes ‘wonder’, maggie lindemann ‘couple of kids’
↳ author’s note new year greetings came four days late this year, sorry about that... i was searching for a suitable theme to write, so i opt for a non-serious one. i planned to engage in a 7-day writing challenge this week, starting with namjoon on monday. wish me luck! and happy reading! <3
“Please turn them off…” the deep grovel of his voice took you by surprise. It wasn’t like you to not have noticed when he walked in. The television had the show ‘The Return of Superman’ playing. By the sound of the troubling huff he let out, as he stood, hanging his long coat on the coat hanger, it seemed like he had a rough day. He didn’t look at you in the eye when he walked in, and it seemed like he would like to disappear today. You blinked to the view of his back disappearing into the hallway to the right, heading to his home studio. Hanging your face down to your lap, you pointed the remote to the screen and it turned to a black screen. Long story short, the kids in the show wanted to see him. And long story short, they weren’t able to reach a meeting point resulting in the kids meeting another artist instead. By the looks of it, Namjoon isn’t taking it lightly. By the looks of it, he seemed a little disappointed. And for that, you don’t really know how to interfere, or if he wanted you to.
Namjoon and you really stood in the grey area sometimes, when it comes to trespassing each other’s boundaries. It’s really difficult to read him sometimes, because he keeps so much to himself. It was something you both mutually understand when you both ended up together. The go-no-go point had always been a grey. There’s so much at stake and your intricated mind combined with his sometimes doesn’t allow room for negotiation. When something like this happens, you have to analyse where he stands. And sometimes you miss your hit. The more time you miss, the more frightened you are where the next one comes. They say, if you don’t have to watch your words with someone, you’ve found the right one. But when it comes to Namjoon, you refuse to say the wrong words because you don’t want to hurt him. Not after all he’s been through. So you took light, careful steps towards the door to his home studio. Watching him bended over his chair, mouse running wild. His face shone by the light from the computer screen.
“Hey,” you softly whispered. Leaning your face against the door frame, hand clasping the edges of the door.
He hollowed his cheek, tutted his tongue out and said, “Hey” to the screen instead. A short silence followed. Then,
“I didn’t know they were coming to see me. They lied to those kids saying they’ll meet me, and they didn’t. They must have felt so betrayed.” He hung his head low. He rubs his nose.
“What can you do? It’s a show… It doesn’t make you a bad person,” your voice, gentle, persuasive as ever. It was the only way you think would get to him.
Since when did it matter what others think of him? You would be foolish to say that. Knowing Namjoon as long as you did, you know criticism no matter how constructive or harsh, they dent the same deep to him. Be it his music, be it his words. Silence from his side, yet again. Moving away you decided to say one last thing for his consideration.
“There’s always more than one way… My husband used to tell me,” you shut the door behind you, a lopsided smile on your lips.
Stunted by the pitch darkness he sat in, your words resonated in his mind and he looked down the keyboards and grinned. You are right, there’s always more ways than one.
More ways than one. To say that Namjoon had a perfect childhood would be vastly inaccurate. His brilliant mind was not without a cost. You both hid behind words you didn’t say. The pain that felt so familiar and the fear that is mutual. For a while, he somehow convinced you to push through. And with him, the glass is always half full. And by glass full, Namjoon’s quiet determination and drive would inspire you to keep going. When he is sound asleep at night, the dim light draws the shape of his body, you would place your palm on one side of his face, thumbing his cheek, just to feel him there. His breathings would slow down. His most vulnerable state, and just hours ago, he was reading to you a poem he wrote. The stirs would stop and you pulled the blankets further up his chin. You brushed his bangs back and placed a kiss on his forehead, letting your lips linger a second longer than usual. It just felt a while. Like it was a dream.
Gravitating towards Namjoon, it only seemed natural. The bike nights rides along the Han River, he bulleted through the summer night breeze while you opened your arms wide sitting behind him. The moon and the stars were witness to it all. He blew air bubbles to the sky while you tried to catch them all with your open palm. Sitting on the grass, his arms around your waist. You were falling heavenly, recklessly. Sharing lilac cotton candy, and meeting each other's lips through it. He tasted like cotton candy, sticky and sweet. You could feel him smile against your lips.
“We can’t save everyone, Joonie,” you spoke softly, “Those we can, we could…”
With his shut eye, he said, “I did all that I could… but why didn’t it feel enough?”
It’s a terrible thing to feel helpless. To feel restricted, to feel limited. The barricades are held up and for someone like Namjoon who is adamant to strike barriers head on, there seems to be places he couldn’t break through. And that feeling is discouraging. It is limiting and groundless. Namjoon is determined to make changes in the world, wherever it fits. There are places he couldn’t go though, despite the remarkable footsteps he had already pioneered. Namjoon is brave, relentless. He refused surrender and the louder his voices are, the more shackles they put on his ankles. It is only due time that he would explode. He just had hearts too big for his body, and if you think he doesn’t have more to give, you’re wrong. He is as possessive to the things that are his, you just need to name it.
Possessive. The word would seem so harsh. But it was everything Namjoon is. You had just bawled the night away for having to marry a family friend’s son who had gotten divorce from two of his wives. You had never been so scared because not only was the man twice older than you are, he was also your tutor when you were 15. He had been eyeing on you since then, and it disgusted you so. With no words from Namjoon for days after you told him the story, your faith in him was fading. You felt so unprotected and sold away by your own parents. No one cared. The next day, the predator will come and he will take your hand in marriage whether you want it or not. You considered running away. But where would you go? Anywhere would have been just fine.
That same night Namjoon stormed into your parent’s house, drenched in the rain, pounding on the door. Then you heard your father open the front door to the porch.
“I may not be the son-in-law you dreamt of, nor am I a perfect son to my parents. I have nothing to give her. I am not adequate but I have dreams larger than myself, and that dream is to have your daughter as my wife. I am not the son-in-law you want, but I am the husband your daughter needs.
My name is Kim Namjoon and I cannot let her marry anyone else but me.”
His wedding vows were immaculate. The night before your wedding, you asked him, “You want to take care of my heart?”
“Absolutely,” he said, without an ounce of hesitation and crinkly eyes, with a big smile.
When you think about those impeccable moments, you know his devotion is pure. That’s why loving him is easy and difficult.
What do you like most about me? What an odd thing to ask. Watching the people cross the road as the traffic light turned red for them. The fine dust reading shoots off the roof again today. The wedding ring on your ring finger, curled around the steering wheel of your worn out car. The diamond catching the light, decorating the roof of your car with little rainbows. You smiled to your chest then to the side. When is it ever not strange when it comes to Namjoon. Of course he had to ask you the easiest yet the most difficult question as you were rushing out the door with minutes to spare. Hopping on one feet, holding on to his stomach to keep your balance.
But you couldn’t forget those eyes. Those pleading eyes. Felt like it mattered to his life what your answers were.
The light turns green. You dropped the brakes and gently pressed on the accelerator. It could have been easily his heart, or his mind, mostly both. And possibly everything in between; no, most definitely everything in between. Or is it his arms, that feels like an asylum or a fortress, depending on the situation? Or his lips, with the things it says or the things it does? Or his ears that continue to earnestly listen to you whining or screaming or the static silence he demanded to make sense of?
Why did it have to be what he offers you? Why can’t you love him for what he didn’t offer you?
The answers aren’t simple at all.
And as the answer you said loomed over you, hours on end at work and through lunch and important meetings, you feel like the clock is ticking in your ear. Why didn’t you look at his expressions when you left? What were you rushing for? You made it on time but you left things unsettled at home. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel right at all.
“Namjoon, you’re a firework.” The words you threw ringing in his ear like it was only yesterday, since he said he wanted you. It was the most remarkable, most detrimental, most damaging words he had ever heard someone say to him. It didn’t help that he was deeply enthralled by you. He was broken, so beautifully broken. The way his edges are both sharp and blunt and in patterns unique to him; he was a deliberately planned masterpiece. He understood what you said; and you talk in riddles he is fluent in. You hide in metaphors and intricate words of a poet. Your true feelings never fully revealed. Sometimes he feels like he is walking in circles, or falling in a bottomless pit. Sometimes he feels like he’s found home away from home and finally talking in a language someone spoke.
Firework. It could be a compliment and an insult. They are the prettiest in the darkest night, the glittering lights, the adrenaline inducing sound of explosion; always the highlight of a celebration, an achievement, the peak--everything good in life. But when the fireworks ended, the darkness loomed again, the adrenaline fell as the silence grew; anticipations dug its grave with each moment passing without sound--excitement, plummeting to the ground. Fireworks are temporary happiness. You said you were a mere spectator. It was both a compliment and an insult. Namjoon realised that what he projected wasn’t the same thing you were looking for. You wanted forever. He looked in your eyes the same way he looked at you when you left for work this morning; with longing he didn’t quite fathom the depth of.
When he sits in his room, getting lost in the words carried by the author, he forgets about all the things that worry him. With the desktop lit up of a wallpaper of you mashing his face between your hands, face so close to each other, smiling contently, behind him. This house is littered with love. They are in the walls, on the floor and all over the ceiling.
“I am terrified of you,” you said, laying next to him in bed one night. It felt like an untimely confession. The words he never expected from you. At first, he thought it was due to how intimidating he looks. He’s almost six feet tall, he frowns at everything, almost tactlessly blunt to anything about quality-- terrified is a weak word. He looks like he hates everything and won’t stay behind for anything that doesn’t interest him. But it wasn’t. Your fear was not from how he is built but the way that he stayed. You always expected people to leave after a certain time spent. But he just keeps coming back and everytime he does, you get scared.
“I had never had anyone stay that long before,” you looked up at the ceiling while he looked at you, counting your eyelashes.
“I don’t know what to do…” you turned to him and casted your eyes downwards, “People like you aren’t supposed to be with people like me.”
Everyone deals with pain differently. In the commotion of a subway station, in front of the crowded cafes, the congested road and the beeping from the cashier’s counter. These faces staring at the floor, these fast-paced steps, the little jogs to the closing elevator door. The beginning of the year always feels overwhelming. The expectation is high, the spirits and passion is off the roof. Guess it was the disappointment that scares you the most. How many years did January begin the same way and December had it all taken away or drained till you are hollow on the inside?
A pair of supple lips, butterfly kisses trail up your shoulders to your cheek, a pair of strong arms snaked around your hips, pulling you in a rib-cage squeezing hug. A smile grew on your lips.
“What are you thinking so hard of, it's’ not even noon yet?” the deep grovel of his voice disrupted your train of thoughts, much to your dismay. Then you switch to face him, pointing your index finger to the ceiling as his hand rests on your bum.
“There’s a time in your life that you’re scared of me pushing you away when you kiss me,” your eyes twinkle at him and he wanes in his stance.
“Why are you making me nervous so early in the morning?” throwing his head back, showing you his frustration, “We’re married now, you can’t push me away…I wouldn’t have anywhere to go.”
When the light caught his luminacing brown eyes, you thought about how astonishing it was; to be loved, to be understood, to be broken and healed at the same time--all by the same set of eyes. The way it catches the sun, rain and storm. There’s something a pair of eyes could say without words.
In autumn, when those eyes cried a river, head filled with broken dreams and dreaded nights, and you caught the net, the whirl of the still moments stole your spineless sanity. The dizzying concoction of despair and anger the year had. And in a few more days, the new year will come. With every year passing, the more you dreaded the things you didn’t do. You blame yourself for the things you couldn’t change. The year felt like a dream; floating in the air, weightless. With no stone to keep you in place, you wandered like a lost soul, the only thing familiar was those lumineering brown eyes. Those eyes, when you see them--home.
As he sat there, talking, endlessly, chuckling, showing you his phone screens and wishes he got for both of you, you drifted into space. You didn’t hear a thing he said, you just, existed. And you watched him, in all that he is. All the troubled nights he didn’t speak to you about, the pain he hid away, the things he didn’t say and everything he felt. Then you think about all the times that he saved you when you’re in pain. When his hugs were as strong as the deteriorating war in your head, when his whispers were louder than the demons, and the hand he held tighter than the things you couldn’t fight against. There’s forever in his eyes. And you hadn’t seen that in years.
In winter, when the cold is numbing and the only thing warm is his breaths, the world is white in snow and those eyes searching the crowds land on you and turn into a pair of crescents. No stones left unturned, the battles he faced-- Namjoon was the war you chose. It was then you realised that even if the world collides and the ground turns to skies, it's his hand you want to hold. Driving along the same route you came from, your tired eyes in the reflection of the rearview mirror, you heard yourself asking, “What do you love most about you?”
Namjoon. Loving Namjoon is what I love most about me.
He shows you that no matter how self centred you were, you were capable of infinite love.
Namjoon might have lain awake for hours before you did. Arduously, he loved. Silently, he thought. In his mind, he would have kissed you awake. Then, when he asked you what you loved most about him, he least expected a deep answer, not at the time frame that was given to you. He felt found and kept safe. He found forever in you. No words would have sufficed.
“Bones.”
“Bones?”
“Bones… I love your bones. They make up everything you are.”
Curling his arms around your waist while you sleep soundly, he nudges his face in the back of your hair as he pulls you close. These bones love you too. Ferociously, immensely, profoundly.
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Namjoon sent a video to the kids that wanted to see him that day. The kids are more excited than ever. They may not have met, but Namjoon’s sincerity flourished through the video message. You are absolutely right, there’s always more ways than one. We can’t save everyone, but we could save those we can.
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copyright © january 4th, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for your time
#bones#moonchildnetwork#bangtanarmynet#hyunglinenetwork#btsguild#thekimlinenet#kimnamjoonnet#thekimlinenetwork#established relationship#namjoon fics#kim namjoon fics#kim namjoon#namjoon ff#bts rm ff#bts fluff#bts angst#bts namjoon#rm fics#rm fanfic#namjoon x reader#namjoon x y/n#bangtan fanfiction#namjoon fanfiction#bangtan fluff#knj#knj fics#knj fic#knj fanfic#husband namjoon
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rough | sj
↳ pairing seokjin x you
↳ genre domestic, fluff, slice of life, heir!seokjin, husband!seokjin, established relationship
↳ words 2.7k
↳ summary again seokjin’s conglomerate family comes in between your marriage, but this time, seokjin will not stay silent
↳ song lauv ‘love like that’
↳ author’s note the 7-day writing challenge continues with seokjin! <3
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Blanket rustling. A hand clamored on the vibrating alarm. A silhouette of a broad shoulder of a man sat awake on the edge of the bed, clicking his neck right and left. Seokjin rubs the back of his neck. He slid the indoor slippers on, walked wobbly around the king-sized bed, leaving the striped curtain down for his wife to sleep longer. Hand on the knob to the bathroom, he splashes water on his face. With the tips of his hair wet, he brushed his teeth. The morning always begins the same way from Seokjin. He is up by 6am, he does all his morning necessities, plants a kiss on the wife’s cheek and checks out the daughter in the next room. Once he has gotten a good look and the situation is unalarming, he proceeds to the kitchen. He looked at a post-it note placed on the fridge door, and today, his wife wanted to take kimchi fried rice with egg to the office for lunch.
Easy. I can do that. He thought.
Lily, his 7 years old daughter is still asleep. Overnight yoghurt is ready for her. For his wife, she would have something warm. So he took out a bowl and poured a cup of oats inside, meanwhile the coffee was brewing as it was set to start brewing at about 6:15am in the morning, everyday. Coffee is the most important beverage to start the day. Without it, civilization might not even exist. Seokjin thought as his lips embraced the warm hug of the energizing liquid, downing a sip, cascading down his parched throat. He let out a satisfied sigh. The curtain in the living room is drawn open even before the sun is up. The cold air of the morning had fogged the glass window but with a click of a button, it cleared. Seokjin begin fluffing the cushion on the sofa, fix the runner on the coffee table and cleared the kitchen counter ready for breakfast. It’s almost 6.45am. You’ll be up and you would wake Lily right after. But before that, you will steal his coffee mug.
“Morning to you too,” he monotonously said while you grab his mug from his hand.
“I hate Mondays…” You grumbled.
“But today is Tuesday…” he corrected you, glancing at the digital calendar on the fridge.
“A second monday is no different,” You placed the mug down, and leaned on his arm.
“What time did you sleep last night?” he asked, shaking his arm sporadically to keep you awake because it seemed that you snoozed on them.
“Late, late…” you muttered.
Because of that, Seokjin offered to wake Lily this time around. But only today. Lily is draped over her father’s able body as he walks around, getting the laundries to run so he could dry them on time before the noon drama begins. You are in the shower, still whining about having to leave for work, trashing and sighing and whatever adults do when they have to work to get the bills paid. Sitting in your bathrobe, Seokjin had your oatmeal ready. Lily is on his lap while he fed her overnight yoghurt. She has school this morning, online classes. Lily always had a soft spot for her dad. Technically, he’s mom. He’s the one at home while the mom works. He teaches vocal lessons online after the virus decided to return to the community. He doesn’t really prefer online classes, literally no one does. It’s just not the same. You on the other hand, would have preferred working at home instead. If only you could bring those machines home. The vaccine development is in its pilot state, and there are so many things to be done. Your present is required in all the meetings.
Yesterday, you were up late to decipher the most recent problem your team encountered. The DNAs are denatured when it is transferred into the carrier and no matter how much you argued, (how impossible it was to happen) since there was no presence of heat at all to have caused the denature, it happened anyways.
“Phones off the table please, mummy…” Seokjin warned.
Typing frantically a few more sentences, your phone is taken away by your husband and set on the side table, mere an arm length away. Lily watches in silence and while you wretched in silent agony.
“What’s happened?” Seokjin asked.
Telling him everything, explaining it in simple words. Your animated way of telling stories comes in beneficial today, even Lily is engaged. Then the shoulders dropped. The tone mellows and your lips begin to mumble when you hit the no-answer part of the story, the part where it leaves you stuck.
“And I don’t know what to do to fix that particular mishap…”
Seokjin pursed his lips. That’s when Lily reached her little arms out to you.
“It’s okay, mummy. You’ll find a way to do it today…” She even pats your knuckle while at it. You switched your palm upward and held her hand. Seokjin smiled proudly at her, and kissed her hard on the head. You both shared a look across the kitchen counter, and you know you both are thinking of the same thing; Lily surely is an angel. She may be 7, but she doesn’t know just how much that meant to you. You will walk the headquarters today, a lot more confident than you did yesterday, and when you are confident, you are able to look through windows that are otherwise shut. That reminds you of Seokjin truly. He just always had so much faith in you that even if you don’t have it in you, you would think you do just because he believed so.
He hands you your lunch by the door. A hug for a minute every day, therapists say, would be good for the mind, body and soul. Sometimes it drags longer than that, depending on the severity of the situation. But he smells like bed and toothpaste in the morning, with his little bed hair that you wouldn’t mind doing it for an hour. Lily leans down for a kiss on the cheek and she hands you a facemask before you leave while Seokjin hands you the car key. Usually he would drive you to work and fetch you home but since both of his classes and Lily’s are online, there’s no need to go back and forth, exposing themselves to the virus even more while being out. You would like it better if they never had to leave home. Lily waves you goodbye from the door and Seokjin watches you leave with a smile stuck on his face. And you looked back thinking, the year may have taken a number of things, but they’ve also strengthened the little family you have.
Walking in with a comfortable glide by the lounge of the already bustling office, wait… Bustling? Everyone rushed in and out pushing carts of files and trays. Even the decors are being moved about. What is going on? You tilted your head to one side and looked for a familiar face. But seeing no one you know, you opened the door to your office and dialled Yoongi, your trustee alliance in the building. He answered with a cocky huff, “You don’t know? The investors are coming in today!”
Yoongi can be all kinds of things, but lying isn’t one. It was not impossible for investors to come in without a proper walkthrough towards the manufacture of the vaccine but, isn’t this way too early?
“I think they’re antsy, the economy is at its lowest this time of day and they want profit… Capitalists,” Yoongi swings in with his coffee mug.
“I thought this would be on Friday, I would have had everything ready on Friday,” you fussed, shifting papers and files, frantically typing on last modifications on the presentation you had prepared.
“That, you could blame your rookie assistant, the new boy, what’s his name,” Yoongi clicked his tongue, proceeds to think hard.
“Yeonjun?”
“Yes, Yeonjun. He got the time zone all wrong…”
You shut your eyes in agony. Noticing your silence, Yoongi took a seat in front of, swivel in the chair in the behaviour of an heir to a convenient store chain, before stopping dead in front of you, voice deeper than the sea.
“Mrs. Kim,” he said, “Aren’t you afraid?
“Of what?”
“The investors that are coming are Astra Pharmaceutics…”
“So?”
“They’re linked to your in-laws medical centres… before your marriage with Kim Seokjin.”
Astra Pharma. It is a joint company orchestrated by your father-in-law, their first ever attempt to venture into the medical line. How could you forget the name of the company? Astra Pharma is owned by a powerful chaebol Kim clan, one of which Seokjin grew up with. They have a daughter that they wanted Seokjin to marry with. That was 10 years ago, which means that that daughter is going to pioneer the company now, and her name is Kim Yoojin. Every year she sends a bouquet of flowers to Seokjin’s family restaurant on New Year's. She never missed any stores that Seokjin family opens.
Yoongi searched her name on Naver for you. She is standing on the patio, giving out speeches. It most certainly didn’t help that she is elegant, stunning and charismatic. Even as she walked into the meeting room right now, with her entourage. She really wants to talk business. And you know nothing about that. Your defenses are science, your core is pharmaceutical and your strength is knowledge. If she begins a financial jargon with you, you will be making a fool out of yourself. Somehow, knowing that she is the preferred daughter-in-law, makes it even worse.
No room for mistakes.
Dial tone, and again, unanswered.
“Where could mummy be…” Seokjin hums.
“A meeting probably…” Lily replied.
Seokjin gapes his mouth open to have his daughter feed him a biscuit. Lily, being a little rascal refuses to give up her biscuits.
“That’s right, that’s how I raised you, don’t share unless you get something too,” Seokjin joked around. Seokjin might have left the stove running when he answered a call from his mother. Lily was drawing on the dining table, waiting for her next online class. She is to take pictures of her drawings and send them to her teacher. Seokjin returns to the kitchen, placing the phone sandwiched between his shoulder and ear.
“Son,” she began, “Why don’t you take your wife to a resort this weekend so Lily could spend the weekend with her grandparents here in Hannam… wouldn’t that be nice?”
Seokjin squeezed his eyes, and set down that spatula.
“Mom….” he warned, “Is there something else you would like to tell me?”
After hearing what his mother had to say, Seokjin rushed out the door along with Lily, driving down the white Palisade to Hannam mansion where his mother was waiting outside. Seokjin drops Lily and rushes inside the mansion to grab a few more things. But before he leaves, he locks his eyes on his mother and says with utmost firmness, “You and I will have to talk after I get this settled.” His mother gave him a stricken smile while Lily smiled wickedly at her father. Blue Lamborghini, Aventador S engine roars as it sped out the garage door. Seokjin pulls down the window to speak to his daughter, “Behave, or else…” Lily gave out an ‘OK’ sign with her fingers.
The luxurious car then sped out into the street.
There weren’t any mistakes. Any investors coming would have been persuaded by the way you carry the presentation. The marketing strategy and pilot scale up plans are concise and rectified. The points are delivered extensively and with proper explanation. However, when you were prepared for scientific questions and whatnot, you come to realise that the CEO of Astra Pharma was interested in anything but science.
“How is Kim Seokjin?”
Everyone else in the room was taken aback by the strangely intimate question posed on a vaccine presentation. It was out of line and obviously, out of place. Even as a person as wealthy as her. Not only was it a deliberate display of her unprofessionalism, she was also bringing down her company’s image. It’s like she is ready to overturn the hard work her parents put into raising her, for a man who is married to someone else.
“He is… perfectly well, though I am not sure what’s that has got to do with our topic of discussion for today…”
You mumbled the last few words to yourself. What is she doing? What is she thinking of doing? Steal Seokjin back? If that’s her intention, then it's the worst strategy she could ever come up with. Not only would it fail her immensely, Seokjin will literally drag her and her family’s face down in the dirt for even trying to tear his family apart. You know him enough to know that he would fight the world for his wife and kids. Hence, that’s why you couldn’t understand Yoojin’s motive to bring this all up, ten years after. Is she trying to embarrass you? In the middle of a presentation filled by scientists who care nothing about the personal lives of one of their own? She is only making a fool out of herself, despite her money.
“You must have been so confused… as to why I brought up your husband in this…” she stood up in her Swarovski studded heels. She made her way to you around the table, enticing everyone in the room with her walk and her words.
“No, I am confused as to why a company like yours is interested in investing in the same exact study your own university is working on. It’s like buying the exact same cows doing the exact same thing, producing the exact type of product with twice the price,” you tracted.
“I guess that’s why he liked you,” she looks down to the floor and up the ceiling with a cunning smile, “You’re a sheep in the pack of wolves.” She locked her hyena-like eyes to you. The hair in the back of your neck stood up. You have no idea what she meant by that.
“I am investing for you to stop. Your formula is bound to fail anyways. So before the company suffers any more losses due to your incompetence, I suggest you halt all activity and let the high rollers play the game. This field is not for amateurs.”
“I think you might have forgotten that I am a scientist, not a businesswomen. Your concern is not mine to worry. My job is to get to my vaccines and make sure it works, and that’s what I’m paid to do. Whether or not you invested, is none of my concerns.”
You collected your things on the desk. And she smiled wickedly,
“Well then, you leave me no choice, I will have to sue you for forging the templates my company has patented…”
“How do you sue me for fraud if I don’t do any forging?”
“You’re surely a meek girl… Seokjin will have to cushion the blow with an expensive legal fee now don’t he?”
Was there a mole in the company? Yoongi walks in. Along with Seokjin.
“Tell them what you did,” Seokjin said, and then, “Tell them what you did!” He thundered.
Yoongi confessed to stealing the documents and making it seem like it was forged. He also sent the emails and had them edited so the dates were wrong. He was paid handsomely by Astra Pharma to send all updates on the formula which then led the pharma company to imitate the make-ups protein-by-protein. He used the friendship he had established with you to gain all access to your files. He also confessed that he refused to continue doing it and when he decided to pull the plugs from Astra Pharma, Astra Pharma threatened him. He had no choice but to abide to the play Yoojin wanted orchestrated. When it was clear what Yoojin actually wanted (to spill dirt on your name so she could feel above you for once in her life after she lost Seokjin), Yoongi decided to come clean. He came to Seokjin’s mother and begged for forgiveness, because it was through her that he had gotten a job in your pharma company.
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Seokjin leans on his blue lamborghini, waiting for you to come outside. He has his Raybans on and a black bomber jacket over a white tee.
“Are you mad at my family?”
“Won’t you be?”
The car door lifts up and you climb in.
“You should have just married her and this all could have been avoided.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
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Copyright © january 5th, 2021 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading!
#rough#bts#thekimlinenetwork#hyunglinenet#bangtanarmynet#jin#husband seokjin#husband au#kim seokjin#bts seokjin#bts fanfic#bts fluff#bangtanfics#jin scenarios#jin reactions#jin fanfics#jin ff#bts ff#kpop#fanfics#fluff#husband jin
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boxes | nj
↳ pairing namjoon, reader
↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship
↳ words 3.3k
↳ summary namjoon’s thriving work and your university never exactly go hand in hand, with the new adjustments made to accomodate the government’s effort to curb the pandemic, namjoon has to deal with your mood swings and all the boxes that came with it
↳ warning suggestive content, mentions of masturbation, stress mismanagement
↳ song dizzy ‘magician’
Doorbell. The door swung open to a sullen, barely awake Kim Namjoon. He managed to slide on a grey WTAPS hoodie as he walked to the door in his knee length shorts, rubbing his eyes and squinting at who was at the door.
“Mrs. Kim?” The delivery man asks.
“That’s my wife, yes,” Namjoon said in a gritty voice.
He was slowly grasping the fact that he was entertaining a delivery addressed to his roommate and bedmate. The stranger at duty finally hands him a parcel, the size of a small go-kart cart meant for kids; and then shoves him an electronic device that Namjoon was supposed to sign on, where he acknowledges that the parcel had been received. The felt-tip pen doesn’t do justice to Namjoon’s otherwise pretty handwriting, but that’s not the first, and certainly won’t be the last.
And at the corner of Namjoon’s mind, by the time the delivery man left and disappeared to the end of the hall was, who was this from and what could it be?
Just a few hours ago, when the sun was hiding under the horizon, and the stars still decorated the skies, the chirping birds from the floor below had filled Namjoon’s ears as he crawled into bed, laying on his back and finally sighing from the amount of work he forced himself to do. A split second after, your alarm rang. And he frowned. Your arms reveal themselves from the depth of the duvet, snaking over Namjoon’s bare chest, as you brought your face over his nipples lazily to get to your phone that was on the nightstand. He exhaled through his nose and spoke under his breath,
“Your phone’s on the other side.”
Catching a few seconds of snooze before you actually replied, you mumbled,
“I know,” against his supple chest.
A few more minutes of skin contact before you had to start the day, you begged in your head. Your head was underneath Namjoon’s chin and his arm draped over your shoulders. As the mind awakes, you heard him say, “Wake up, or you’ll be late,” while absolutely nothing about his confining arms. His ridiculousness eventually made you smile, first thing in the morning. Had he been sleeping in regular hours, you wouldn’t feel like nagging him. But as you peel yourself from him, unwillingly, you saw his tired face and soft snores, you decided that sleep schedules are a discussion for another day. Rubbing your forehead, you finally fetched your phone on time before it begins to ring again and woke your husband up.
By the looks of it, he really needs the rest. The clock on the phone shows 7.02AM. Yawning, you dragged your feet into the bathroom and like that, your day begins.
It was your birthday. And your husband completely missed it. It hurts, but it was easy to shove every emotional matter aside because you were swamped with work from university. Ever since long distance education began, there were papers after papers after papers that your lecturer had advised to read and report on.
Constructing frameworks with related articles, and dissecting what is needed and what wasn’t was not only time consuming, it was draining you emotionally and mentally. Sitting hours on end on the desk at home gave you back pain and earned you some appointments with Namjoon’s physiotherapist as per his insistent requests. There were papers, literally in every corner, on every surface of the house.
Namjoon slipped over one. Or two. Once, or twice. Actually, a few times.
It gets mixed with his music arrangements, his lyrics, his online-purchase receipts. It gets stacked on his piano and several on his bookrack. Just, papers.
Birthday? On the most hectic week of your semesters where the final exam is held? And assignments to be submitted? No time. No time for celebration. It is article after article. Citations over citations. Paraphrasing after paraphrasing after some more paraphrasing. Namjoon watched in horror sometimes. Sometimes he just accepted his fate. That his wife, in distress, would place weird things in weird places. Such as, phone in the fridge or the microwave. Car keys in the wardrobe. House keys in shoes -- this one, you insisted that it fell but Namjoon could vouch that he actually saw you put them in the shoes and hung your socks on the key holder. Namjoon also had to text you, while in the house, to eat, and shower or sleep -- all the basic human necessities. And if he is not in the house, he sends pictures of his food to remind you.
Your stress was entirely something else. You were a whole different being. Not to say that you throw tantrums, or that you get fidgety. But you get hazy. The only way to explain it is, sometimes, when Namjoon is speaking to you, you could be looking into his face and watching him talk, and ask him to repeat because you didn’t hear a thing he said. You were just nodding. Like that one time when he was speaking about a certain meteor shower occurring at such and such time and place, you were wondrously staring only to say, “What did you say again? I wasn’t paying attention…I’m sorry.” Namjoon would shut his eyes in agony and fetch the remote to change the channel, refusing to repeat himself. And you would whine in protest because you feel that he felt neglected, and it wasn’t your intention. You were just occupied. By pressing due dates, and pressure to deliver paperwork feasible to your lecturers.
You left the house to have better home-study dynamics. Your Wifi has been on and off and despite Namjoon’s online complaints, no one has been allowed to perform technical aids in homes due to the Corona Virus spread. Aware of this, you took your work to the university where you can focus better. Namjoon wasn’t entirely against it. He was just worried that you wouldn’t eat on time, unsupervised. Namjoon has been actively working from home and you could see his productivity had been slowed down due to lack of environmental stimulation. He didn’t have to say it out loud, but if he does, you’re there to listen. So, it was your birthday. And he was half awake, pushing the parcel into the house, so it sits next to the couch.
And then.
Another doorbell.
And another. And another.
And another.
“Mrs. Kim?”
“Yes.”
Doorbell. Signed.
“Is this Mrs. Kim’s resi--”
“Correct.”
Doorbell. Signed. Carry parcel.
“.”
“That’s my wife?”
Doorbell. Signed. Parcel. Stack. Doorbell. Signed. Parcel. Pushed. Doorbell. Parcel. Signed. Pushed. Stacked. Pushed. Stacked.
Namjoon heaves one box in and lets out a big exhale when his phone begins to ring and he dashes to it, down the hall on the bedside table. His thumb drags the answer button, places his phone on his ear and breathes out, “Honey…”
“Hey, I’ve been calling and calling… I just got a text from several friends that they’re sending some--”
“Parcels? Packages? Letters? Yeah, I think I got them…” Namjoon scans around the living room, “All of them.”
“I’m so sorry, you must have been so tired, you didn’t even get much sleep. It’s just. My friends, they wanted to send me things for my birthday… is it a lot?”
Namjoon clamps his lips between his teeth, understanding the gravity of the situation. Not only had he forgotten his wife’s birthday, he was being an ass. Muttering fucks under his breath, he leans his forehead on the wall.
“It’s your birthday…shit, I forgot,” he scolds himself through the phone for you. You half-smiled while continuing to type on your computer.
“That’s right,” you hummed teasingly, “What are you going to do…Hmm?”
“I’ll do anything…” he pleaded.
“Anything? I’ll figure it out and let you know alright? I’m gonna be home soon… But I can’t say when… Take care.”
“Does that mean today or like--Hello? Did she just hang up on me?” Namjoon stares at his phone screen where it reads ‘Call Ended.’
“Half of the living room is gone,” Namjoon pulled a chair out the dining table looking over the said scene.
You tutted your tongue, already imagining the gravity of the situation. Had it been you at home, Namjoon could have slept soundly. However as you had these assignments to submit and time-pinching articles to read that you have to be here. Namjoon sounded so exhausted. And honestly, you didn’t know how many more were coming since it was a surprise. You got these messages from the delivery company that there was a delivery under your phone number and address so you were notified as Namjoon was being bulleted with endless doorbells. It should end now. You’re not receiving any more messages. Half of you wanted Namjoon to give you a good night as a birthday gift, while the other wants him to suffer a couple of more nights of unattended ‘needs’. And you being you, it almost always falls on the latter.
The door unlocks and Namjoon springs on his feet, dashing to the entrance where you walked in with a couple of thick books in your arm, totally ignoring your lamp post husband holding the door open when you’re trying to close them. He thought he was helping you out so you stare at him to ask him why he is holding it open. He smiled awkwardly and let the door shut while you walked in to place the books stacked on the kitchen counter. Namjoon was hoping that you noticed that the sink is empty and that he washed all the dishes. You didn’t comment on anything but poured yourself a cold glass of water. Namjoon ran his tongue along the length of his lips to keep them from drying up. Eyes restless, body fidgeting at the sight of you gulping down the liquid. He stammers out the question, “H-how was your day?”
And he continues, while you give him your back to wash the mug, “You said you were coming home soon, and you didn’t until like seven hours later… Where did you go?”
“Ah, the lab technicians arranged a birthday celebration for me, you know Yoongi right? So they got me like a cake, I couldn’t save you some…” you smacked your lips together after hanging the glass on the racks to dry. Then you walked past the fridge to open it, poking your head inside while Namjoon chewed the insides of his cheek, looking down to his fiddling fingers. Then he softly said, “For seven hours…?”
You heard him but you spun around and told him flatly, “I’m going to go take a shower, can you heat this up for me?” Passing him a ready made meal, then tip toeing to grab his face to kiss him full on the lips. And deepening it enough to get him moaning, have his arm snaking under your dress shirt but pulling away when he tried to reciprocate the same passion. You smiled slyly as you skipped to your bedroom for him to follow you a bit later, just for him to be door slammed on the bathroom door. And locked. This is where Namjoon picks up the hint that it was a game you decided to play. It’s his punishment. And it began seven hours ago.
After your ready made meal, you were laying next to him in bed reading emails on the tab, rubbing his thigh up and down achingly slowly while he read and grew increasingly uncomfortable with his hardons. He had been reading the same sentences for the past 20 minutes and his philtrum was moist with sweat, he began blinking and shaking his head a couple of times. He said nothing because he knew you were doing this to punish him. Everytime your palm moved further up his thighs, inches away from where he really needs you, you pull away. Ever so accidentally, the back of your knuckle would brush against his clothed hard ons, and he would suppress a moan. He feels sore, itchy, dying to touch himself to the point that he was practically gripping so hard on his book.
Bored with emails, you began to watch a series on Netflix and every now and then, you would let out the gasps that he recognises to be the one you’d make in bed with him. You would also let out moans that would make him dizzy. His knee shakes as his needs go untreated and you asked him, in an angelic tone, “Is everything okay baby?”
He breathes, “No.” The book flew from his hand and he turned to you, begging with everything he has in him for you to, “Please. It hurts.”
You put your tabs away with a sigh, took your glasses off and you thumbed his cheek. Putting your face close enough for him to feel your breath on his skin, you smiled affectionately, “Goodnight baby…” Passing him a box of tissues and reminded him, “Not too loud, okay?”
Defeated, Namjoon almost felt like crying. How long must he deal with this? How long must he want and can’t have? And if you thought his desires died down after he masturbates, you were wrong. Sleeping right next to you like this, you were pushing your butt on his hip while sleeping soundly, making him shiver. All the hair behind his neck stood up as he tried to control his dick once again.
He married the she-devil herself. Sweating profusely, he grabs the duvet above you, pressed himself on you, peppering wet kisses on your neck and shoulders and on every inch of skin he had access to, to hopefully persuade you into forever in a moment. He felt you stir awake and calling out his name in your sleepy voice, propelling him further into neediness.
“Please, let me make you feel good, hmm?” he pleaded. He begins grinding achingly slowly on the curve of your butt and makes you whine.You feel his every crevice and desperation that you sleepily giggle then he groggily says with a boyish tone, “I’ll make you feel so good.” He just really needs to hear you say his name in the manner only lovers know. He was going to lose his goddamn mind if you don’t do something to him. He felt so helpless and vulnerable and bare, it aches. He got on top of you, and suddenly everything feels heavier. His knees digging into the mattress next to your hip, the heat coming out from him, his dilated pupils and baritone voice, repeating how sorry he was. It had you gripping sheets and catapulted to another world. When he said he wanted you to feel good, he really meant rocketing you out the universe it seems. He was gentle and sensual about it, and it was your ultimate kryptonite.
The familiar coiling in the pit of your stomach, the rearing la petite mort as the French says, teeth sinking into flesh, rippling release. Namjoon was adamant to deliver. He then switched from being an absolute gentle angel to a beast. In the back of your mind, you knew he was getting back at you for the torture you let him through. He was determined to not let you leave the bed next morning, or the morning after that. That was the ability of a seasoned lover. He knows where to touch, where to bite, where to spend most time on. He knows just how to make you scream and have you yank his hair back like that. The way he delivers his love is like, “How dare you ignore me? How dare you deny me of your love?”
Namjoon stirred awake feeling sore. The duvet pools around his waist, his happy trails showing as he sat up on the middle of the bed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palm. He saw you curled on your side next to him. Staring at you long enough to watch you switch to your back and displaying the marks he made on you last night. He bit his lips at the sight as the memories returned in delicious flashes. He lays on his stomach and turns his head towards you, smiling like an idiot. He then floats his index finger over your exposed mound, nipples and down the middle of your torso, but there was nothing sexual about it, just sensuality. Consciousness swam tastefully around your head and you blinked several times, before the visions cleared. You caught him grinning.
“G’mornin,” he groggily greeted in his morning voice.
“Morning,” you replied just as affectionately.
Then you figured that the boxes outside wouldn’t unpack themselves if you stayed in bed today, so after a quick breakfast, Namjoon was at your service. His job was to collect the boxes and foam sheets that came with fragile gifts. As you gasps and gawks at the items that are sent to you, like the quirky mugs and hand-stitched runners, Namjoon smiles in awe at how creative your friends and families are. There were hand printed t-shirts from your 1 year old nephew finger drawings, old baby pictures of you from your hometown and some signed books from your friend who is an author. They all had little notes that Namjoon would read aloud for you, he even got the tones right from knowing how your friends talk. Your cheeks were hurting from smiling ear-to-ear.
Namjoon watches you from the door sill as you placed the last gift next to his KAWS collection, with a fond smile stuck on his face. Tiptoeing, chin up, hair in a bun--was his wife. Then slowly, your vibrant face faltered. And Namjoon was quick to notice.
“What is it…?” He said, in a defeated tone.
You answered with a shoulder shrug.
“Another trip around the sun, another year getting older…” You slumped in the hammock next to the window glass. Namjoon joined you by sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall opposing you.
“Sometimes, I just wonder, is this all there is, and even though so, it’s a lot to unpack. Without you, my life would probably be dull, and even with these friends I dearly love, I would have felt very lonely. This year my birthday felt a little special. Although you forgot,” you squeezed your eyes at him, “I was actually happy you didn’t remember. I was sad that I’m no longer what I considered young. The gap just felt a little wider, and things grew over time. I worry about not having more time with my parents, and not contributing enough. I worry about the friends I have that I might no longer have in 3 years time. I worry about you and the things you’ll do and the hurdles you’ll face… I worry about everything that isn’t me.”
Namjoon leans his head back, listening, hugging his knees, hollowing his cheeks.
“I think the question that frequently goes into my mind is, where do we go from here? What’s there to look forward to now that we’re here? And I have to find the answers to these questions. Then I get impatient, anxious of not knowing what the correct answers are…” your voice drifted.
Namjoon scooted over to sit next to your knee like a huge pup, and he turned to face the same view you were looking at. Sunkissed skin, golden rays of the evening, the rainbow cascading from the crystal ball you hung at the corner of the room when the light hits. Everything about the day was tranquil. Then, Namjoon rested his chin on your knee, moved his cheek bone on them, mashing his lips to a pout. And in the comfortable brief silence you stayed, listening to the time tick, and the faint sound of the rustling traffic that Namjoon swiftly say,
“Maybe there aren't any answers.” And if that was true, and it might be true, maybe… there is very little to worry about. Seven trips around the sun with Namjoon. To a whole lot more.
.
.
.
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copyright © 2020 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading
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