namjin roommates au, fluff and humor, idiots to lovers, "it's perfectly legal"
Thirdly, I LOVE YOU RU!
~summary: living with Namjoon usually equals chaos, and tonight is no different. Jin can't pretend he doesn't love it, though
~pairing: jin x namjoon
~fluff, humour, angst if you really squint, idiots to lovers, roommate au
~word count: 1k
~rating: g
~warnings: mentions of alcohol
~a/n: thank you so much!! I love you too🥰💜I'm so sorry it's taken me a while to get to this drabble, I wanted to have it out before this but it's sometimes a challenge coming up with something funny so I had to wait for the right idea to hit! luckily, I thought of something I liked and here it is😊also this is my ‘kim namjoon’ entry for @bangtanwritingbingo
this is part of my drabble game, where requests are still open if anyone is interested! for the others who requested, I'm aiming to have one out each week now!
The house was dark. Silent.
Jin’s breathing, steadily evening out as he relaxed into bed, was all that could be heard.
Such peace was admittedly a rarity around here. Living with Namjoon meant there was usually something going on, whether it be songwriting or something very expensive breaking, but this meant it was never quiet.
Today, though, with Namjoon out, Jin missed it. He would scold his roommate, but whenever a loud crash sounded in the middle of the night, the only reaction it ever provoked was really just a fond smile.
Rolling over, he tried to cherish the silence. But in reality, it unnerved him. Namjoon wasn’t here. It made him feel very alone, very… exposed. Who knew what could happen to him-
He bolted upright in bed.
There was a noise.
It had been soft, muffled, but in the quiet of night there was no mistaking it. Body tense, Jin held his breath. Waiting.
Thump.
There it was again.
And although Jin had been longing for some sign of life just moments ago, this made his blood run cold. It hadn’t sounded from inside the house, but from outside his window.
Another thump, louder this time and right against the glass, finally startled him enough to leap from his bed. Grabbing the closest thing from the dresser, he then raced to the light switch and flicked it on, leaving him staring across the room at his window. If whatever was out there realised he was awake, maybe they would go away.
But the noises didn’t stop.
Crap, what should he do now?
Another snap broke the silence, filled only with Jin’s heavy breathing as his mind short-circuited. It was louder than before, and the next thing he knew, there was an impact against his curtain.
The window was open.
Sprinting across the room, Jin tugged the curtain aside, raising his free hand as he prepared to force the window shut or to beat the trespasser around the head, whichever was most applicable.
In the event, he froze.
So did the other person.
Sitting on his windowsill, eyes wide as they found themselves nose to nose with Jin, was Kim Namjoon.
Jin recovered first, though his eyes were practically bulging from his skull.
“Namjoon?”
An idiotically bright smile sprang onto Namjoon’s face.
“Good evening,” he said.
Jin blinked.
“You’re drunk.”
“Maybe.”
“You’re drunk and breaking into your own house?!”
“It’s perfectly legal,” Namjoon protested, swinging his legs to the inside. He jumped down quite deftly; an effect ruined by his tripping over Jin’s rug not a second later.
Jin jumped out of Namjoon’s way as the larger man fell, finally lowering his hand and staring incredulously down at his roommate.
“I’m not sure it is, you know,” he retorted.
Namjoon was already distracted, though, staring at the weapon Jin held clasped in his hand.
“Is that your aftershave?”
Staring at it properly for the first time, Jin realised he had indeed grabbed his aftershave bottle in his panic. Though the cylindrical bottle could probably do some damage, it wasn’t exactly a conventional means of self-defence.
“I thought you were an intruder!” he retaliated, rounding on Joon.
“And what was your plan, make the burglar smell nice?”
“Hey, you don’t get to lecture me in this situation,” Jin ranted, “this is your fault because you picked the wrong room, dummy. Are you really drunk enough that you forgot where you live?”
Nonetheless, he reached down to help Namjoon up. An action he regretted just moments later as Namjoon’s weight swung the other way, crashing against him and sending Jin staggering against the wall.
Though Namjoon managed to catch himself and avoid crushing Jin, he still had him sandwiched against the wall.
Heat rushed to Jin’s cheeks as he sputtered. Namjoon pressed up against him, a hand on the wall beside his head, was sending him into a flurry he wasn’t prepared for. Swallowing, he met Namjoon’s eyes at last, but what he found there looked akin to hurt.
“I didn’t get the wrong room,” Namjoon murmured.
Bewildered, Jin simply stared at him, before turning his eyes to the room around them. It was a little tricky, Namjoon not moving from his place yet, but he got enough of a look to assure himself that yes, this was his own bedroom.
Returning his gaze to his roommate, Jin looked at him seriously. He lowered his voice a little, speaking very plainly.
“Namjoon, this is definitely my room. You’ve had too much to drink, I can get you some water and then you can go to bed. Your bed.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
Namjoon’s retort wasn’t full of teasing, however. His voice was low, the huskiness in Jin’s ears flustering him far too much. And why were they still standing so close?
“What do you mean?” he spluttered, voice also not raising beyond a whisper.
“Maybe it wasn’t the alcohol,” Namjoon pressed, “what would you do?”
The implications of his words slammed into Jin, pinning him against the wall – although, Namjoon was already doing a good job of that himself. Surely the younger didn’t know what he was saying.
Jin’s voice was shaky when he spoke again.
“Namjoon, you need to go to bed.”
At last, Namjoon stepped back, releasing him. But the loss only made Jin feel cold.
“Okay, hyung,” a half-hearted smile flickered across his face, but died a second later, “I’m sure it was the alcohol, yeah? Sorry if I woke you.”
Breathing heavily, Jin watched, frozen, as Namjoon took two slow steps towards the door-
“Namjoon!”
He stopped in his path, turning slightly back.
Jin sighed.
“Why don’t you stay in here, yeah? So I can keep an eye on you… and you can tell me in the morning whether this was really the room you were aiming for?”
Namjoon’s frame relaxed. And, as always, after Namjoon was asleep, Jin couldn’t be mad at his roommate. He watched him with just a loving smile, hoping for the words he would hear come daylight.
Thanks for reading! Comments are always welcomed and appreciated💜
the huntsman - platonic!ot7 x reader (romantic!yoongi focus; namjin)
genre: drabble, crack. warnings: swearing. pairing(s): platonic ot7, min yoongi x reader, namjin.
Australia was a great country.
The weather was amazing and the people were so nice. Plus, there wasn’t really a lot of ARMY there so you supposed that was a good change.
You’d been to the zoo and seen a crocodile, went scuba diving at the Great Barrier Reef (even though you were terrified of deep water and nearly drowned), learnt how to surf (and failed), and tried Vegemite (on toast).
Now here you all were, chilling in your cabin.
It wasn’t really a cabin, more of a house. Same thing. The V-Live was ending soon, or so you thought.
“So, yesterday, Jagiya was so scared she nearly sha - what, Hoseok?”
Yoongi stopped halfway through, exasperated, making the rest of you turn to see a very pale-faced rapper.
Jimin turned the camera to show ARMY what he was so scared about, you angled your gaze in the same direction before letting out a horrified squeal, grabbing your boyfriend’s arm.
Jungkook had wide eyes and was staring at the eight-legged thing in horror; Taehyung could barely hold his laughter.
But Seokjin was the most characteristic.
Namjoon looked right about ready to die as his boyfriend climbed up on a chair and began spraying the thing with Glen 20, an Australian disinfectant spray.
“It’s harmless,”
Jimin was cackling, reading out someone’s comment (who a fan had nicely translated for them).
“It’s a Huntsman, a friendly spider.”
“Hear that, Seokjin? It’s a friendly spider. Friendly. It’s harmless.” Namjoon’s voice was so restrained that you could’ve laughed if it weren’t for the fact that you were also wishing death on it, terrified.
“It’s harmless, hyung!” Yoongi moaned, “leave it alone! Leave it alone - Jagiya!”
“Kill it, Seokjin!” you detatched yourself from your boyfriend bravely, “kill it! Kill it! Namjoon needs a man, be a man!”
“I’m trying!” Seokjin roared, the fear quavering in his voice.
Jimin cackled even louder, turning the camera towards you and your boyfriend, Yoongi, who’d been desperately trying to get you away from the eight-legged creature.
Jungkook was sobbing with laughter.
Seokjin started spraying the huntsman violently, making Hoseok scream with snickers.
“Spray - spray disinfectant isn’t going to kill anything except for germs, hyung!”
“Die, monster, die! Leave me and my friends alone!”
“Control your boyfriend!” (That was Taehyung, who looked like he was having a fit).
“I’m trying to!” Namjoon roared back, making fans cackle on the comments.
“Y/N, leave it alone! You sick bastard, Seokjin, it’s harmless! You’re traumatizing it! Be free, mochi, be free!”
“Don’t call him a bastard, you virgin asshole! That’s my boyfri -”
“He’s not a virgin!” you roared back, “and don’t call him a bastard! More like, hero! Kill it, Seokjin! Kill it!”
“Die, bug, die!”
“Be free, mochi, be free! You’re cruel, Y/N, cruel!”
“MIN YOONGI, IF YOU CALL THAT MONSTER ‘CUTE’ AGAIN, I WILL DUMP YOU FOR SEOKJIN, SHUT UP, NAMJOON, NOW HELP US KILL IT!”
“Kill it, Seokjin, kill it!”
“You see, ARMY?” you cheered, Jimin backed up, “the man listens to the woman! He always - OPPA! WHAT IS THAT?! GET IT OFF ME!”
summary: seokjin has always cherished the quiet moments, but in this newly engaged stage of theirs, these moments have been a little too quiet and have come far too few. [ wc: 2k ]
pairing: Kim Namjoon | RM x Kim Seokjin | Jin // in short, namjin!
tw: none? just alcohol and innuendos hehe
a/n: my first fic in the bts fandom! i hope you all enjoy, and my asks are open for comments and feedback. reblogs of this post are welcome and greatly appreciated!
song pairing: we might as well dance - madeline peyroux
-- ❝ read it here on ao3! ❞
(no cross-post, but if that's something you're interested in lmk)
As he sat in his usual café, typing away on his laptop, he couldn't have guessed his decision to come here today would be a turning point in his life. Namjoon was too stressed out from the deadlines of his classwork to consider that maybe coming here out of habit was a bad idea.
After all, it hadn't become habit to only him to seek out this particular cafe to spend time in. The service, food, and drink were delightful. And the bustling buzz of the flow of customers was comforting, if you could tune out the exact words.
Namjoon was content — aside from the anxiety of writing his current paper — the sips from his caramel macchiato soothing both his taste buds and nerves.
During one of those sips, Namjoon's eyes landed on quite possibly the most beautiful man he had ever seen, entering the café in a stylish, soft looking coat, cheeks and nose slightly reddened from the chill outside.
As he made his way to the counter, and Namjoon's head was forced to follow if he was going to keep staring, Namjoon snapped out of it, tearing his gaze away and looking back down at his own drink with a small shake of his head.
In his head swam the question, what is he doing here?
But he knew that'd be a dumb question. This was their go-to café. How could he expect Jin to just stop coming to it after they ended things? Hell, did Jin expect him to stop going?
Namjoon tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible, hoping Jin would just get his order and leave. But, nah, he had to full on smack his drink over in the process of trying to organize his papers, as if having a less scattered table would somehow be less noticeable. It was university, that was the most normal thing possible. Yet, he thought a less cluttered table would draw less attention.
And it would have. Had Namjoon not spilled his drink all over it.
He swore under his breath as nearby witnesses watched and either sympathized or snickered outwardly, neither crowds offering help. The napkins Namjoon had with him became saturated quickly from the amount spilled, and he was about to get up for more when a hand with an overabundance of them came into his view, pressing the towels here and there to soak up the remnants of the mess.
Namjoon crouched back down, no longer needing to search for more drying material, and peered at his savior.
Oh.
Namjoon's ex boyfriend glanced up from the dingy ground he was cleaning, and sent Namjoon a charming grin. "Hello."
seokjin knows - has known, for years - that his life will be like this forever. there is no more sea, there is no more swimming, there is no more of anything he used to know. this is life - wake up, go to a shoot, try not to piss giho off, go home, sleep, wake up again. because he was caught. because giho owns him. because he can't.
but then he meets namjoon. and seokjin starts to realize that maybe...just maybe. he can.
pairing | namjin
rating | sfw (some swearing & violence, so T for teen)
wc | 5.7k | cross-posted to ao3
warnings | mild violence, allusions to violence and physical abuse, a very brief depiction of said abuse, non-sexual choking, non-sexual slavery in a way, selkie!jin, aquarium worker!joon, marine biologist!joon, model!jin
a/n | hi this is for fwl’s Luv Library project, for the Fantasy & Fairytales section, and its also the first mxm i’ve ever posted so it might be a Little Rough but i am very attached to these characters and also i Love Selkies SO you get selkie jin!!! special super shoutout to @personawife for reading through it and also giving me the title!!!! im luv u!!! i hope u like the surprise ending that you didn’t get to read bc it was a surprise!!!!!!! ALSO added shoutout to user @jamaisjoons for the SUPERB banner she made!!!!!!!! im in love!!!!!!!!!! sol i do not deserve u!!!!!!!!!!
He misses the sea, sometimes.
He misses the refracting light and the weightlessness and the bubbles. He aches for the days he could swim, for miles and miles and miles, without getting tired. He misses the way his hair would move in the water, the way it felt to lay in the sun to dry off, the warmth that came with it all.
Seokjin wraps his sweater more tightly around his torso and forces the thoughts away. Remembering gets him nowhere, he scolds himself. This is his life, now and forever, and he’s got to accept that if he wants to survive long enough to see the sea once more. He can do this. He’s strong enough for this.
The chill of the winter air is strong, too; it seeps into his bones and roots in them, lingering long after he’s made his way inside the studio. Giho is already there, berating some poor girl for her outfit choice. When he sees Seokjin he stops, waving at the intern. She runs out without even looking up.
“You’re late,” Giho says with a sneer. They both glance at the clock on the wall. 11:55.
“You said noon,” Seokjin responds. His tone is neutral, a carefully constructed skill that has saved his life many times over the years.
Giho tsks, likely because he can’t outright smack Seokjin with so many people around. Still, Seokjin can feel the old man’s eyes on him as he strips out of his clothes.
The cold is prominent against his naked skin, and it doesn’t ebb as he slides the new clothes on. Giho is already yelling again, at the stylist this time, and it’s a familiar background noise. It’s still going on when he gets on the set, face in the perfect mask that everyone seems to love.
The photographer barely needs to direct him; he and Taehyung have worked together for months now, and it only gets easier. Tae knows his best angles, his best lighting, how to highlight the cold expression he wears in shoots so the audience can interpret it their own way.
Seokjin doesn’t know where Giho found this kid, but Tae is lucky the old bastard can’t keep him.
“To the left,” Tae mutters, and Seokjin does so without a word.
The hours pass quickly. Between outfit changes and makeup retouches and actually shooting, the day flies. Before he even knows it, the clock is striking ten, and everyone is packing up.
Jin changes quickly back into his sweater, the ever-colder air chilling him once more. Giho is off to the side with Taehyung and the Artistic Director, Hoseok, all three of them conversing quietly as they look at the photos from today. There’s no need for Seokjin to look; he knows how he did because Giho’s hands are kept to themselves.
Checking again that they’re all suitably distracted, Seokjin turns to leave. He promptly stops, because he runs almost directly into someone coming through the door. Hands dart up to catch him, big and strong and warm as they wrap around his elbows for a second longer than they should, and there’s a muttered “Sorry,” from the guy in front of him.
“Careful, hyung,” Taehyung’s voice calls. “Don’t damage the moneymaker.”
Seokjin’s eyes meet the man’s - a warm brown, one that reminds him of chocolate and muddy snow and love - before he physically pulls himself away. He doesn’t have to look at Giho to know what he’s thinking, what his paranoia is telling him about, and Seokjin needs to be able to eat tonight.
“It’s fine,” Seokjin says in the same unaffected voice he always uses around sets. “Barely touched me.”
The man frowns - probably because Seokjin is lying - but he lets it go, and Seokjin is thankful for it. Small mercies.
“Jin,” Giho calls. He stops and turns. “Eleven, tomorrow.” He nods and leaves, ignoring the exhaustion in his bones and the familiar sorrow that fills his chest as he passes the all-too-familiar trunk by the door.
In the studio he leaves behind, Namjoon shares a look with his brother, who very minutely shakes his head. Namjoon knows that look, created that look to warn Tae off the ones that were more trouble that he could handle. Namjoon always wondered why his little brother never listened to that look.
As he and Taehyung head to dinner, passing billboard after poster after billboard with Jin’s face on it, Namjoon thinks he might understand.
The guy shows up more often. Seokjin knows his name, has said it a thousand times in his head over the weeks, but he won’t let himself acknowledge it. He can feel the guy’s stares on him, every time he arrives to get Tae at the same time Seokjin is running out the door after a shoot. He feels the interest, he’s intimately familiar with how it feels to have someone’s eyes running up and down his body, and he knows exactly what kind of danger that puts the both of them in.
Giho sees it too, he’s sure. That’s the most dangerous part of it, the thing that could be the end of them both. He hasn’t said anything - yet - but Jin is positive as he switches poses for Taehyung that Giho can tell.
He can tell that Namjoon - the guy , Jin corrects himself - is showing up earlier and earlier, more and more often, often hanging out beside the photo monitor and talking to Hoseok while he waits. That his eyes linger, long after the model is gone, and that they wonder, about everything. That he’s interested .
Seokjin doesn’t like to remember what happened to the last man that was interested in him.
It’s pouring rain. There’s a fog over the city that clouds vision and hushes conversation. There’s damp in the air, a wetness that seeps into each breath and covers the earth in its scent. It’s like a blanket over everything, making it all grey and dark and quiet, and Seokjin lives for it.
It reminds him of the sea. How it would churn and darken and crash before a storm. The way the salt spray would hit the ice, the smell of the lightning in the air, the way he could just let it carry him wherever it wanted him to go.
He stands outside the studio. Giho left hours before, for some important networking dinner. He’d tried to drag Seokjin along with him, until Taehyung offhandedly mentioned needing to reshoot a couple things. Giho had sneered and stormed out and that was that.
Now he stands outside, in the rain, with his back against the building. The trunk is just on the other side of the wall; it lingers in the back of his mind, taunting. He can feel it. He knows it’s there.
It’s a testament to how thorough Giho is in his punishments that Seokjin doesn’t attempt to claw it open and instead just tips his head back, eyes closed, basking in the water soaking his sweater and the pull he can feel in his stomach.
He should be swimming.
“Do you need a ride?”
Seokjin doesn’t even open his eyes; he knows the voice. Has spent too long hearing it murmur on the sidelines of photoshoots, has watched its owner as his lips form words he isn’t supposed to listen to.
He should ignore it. That’s what Giho would warn him to do.
“Jin?”
He flutters his lids open, casting a glance at where Namjoon and Taehyung stand. Taehyung has his camera out, and Seokjin has no doubt he’s already snapped a few photos of their surroundings out of habit.
“I’m fine,” he says softly. His voice is slightly hoarse from disuse, but Namjoon doesn’t even flinch. Taehyung is fiddling with his camera, oblivious to the way Namjoon’s eyes search Seokjin’s face for the lie he won’t find.
The rain is the only solace that Seokjin gets; he cherishes these nights. He won’t cut it short, especially not for a human.
“I’m fine,” He repeats. Against his better judgement, he continues, “I enjoy the rain. It’s refreshing.”
“Refreshing…” Namjoon echoes quietly. Neither of them speak, for a long moment; Namjoon continues to look for any sign that Seokjin is lying, and Seokjin continues to pretend the streaks on his cheeks are from the raindrops.
“Walk Jin home.”
They both turn at that, to where Taehyung has his camera pressed to his eye as he frames some shots. When he’s finished, and there’s been no response, Taehyung looks at them both.
“It’s bad weather,” Taehyung explains, “On a dark night. It’d be rude of us to let you walk home alone when anything could be lurking in the shadows.”
Namjoon looks at Seokjin, practically begging for him to agree. He should say no. He should walk himself the ten blocks to his apartment, and pretend neither of them ever said anything, and continue on with his life. Giho would go berserk if he ever found out, would never allow it, would do everything he could to prevent it.
“Sure,” Seokjin says. He’s tired of doing what Giho wants. He’s tired of being without the sea, being kept landlocked with just the rain to remind him of home. “It’s this way.”
Namjoon and Taehyung share a look, but Seokjin pays it no mind as he heads down the street.
The rain is coming down in sheets, and his clothes are soaked. They rest heavy against his skin, and it just makes Seokjin miss the ocean more. He misses how it felt to be weightless, constantly; to feel so powerful and strong and capable. He never feels that way on land.
“How long have you been a model?” Namjoon eventually asks. For a moment - a split second - Seokjin considers ignoring him. It’s what Giho would demand he do.
“Too long,” He says instead.
“You don’t enjoy it?” Namjoon asks, surprised. Seokjin shakes his head, just slightly.
“I do, it’s just…” He searches for the words. He can’t tell anyone about it, has no one to talk to, no one that would believe him. He’s never even felt the urge to share it. Until now. “It’s not what I would have picked for myself.”
Namjoon is silent beside him, and Seokjin can feel the question on the tip of his tongue. He’s going to ask why he does it, why he would bother being a model if it isn’t what he wants to do, and then Seokjin will be forced to come up with an excuse.
“What would you have picked?” Namjoon asks instead.
It brings all of the thoughts in his head to a standstill; all the worry and anxiety and stress stops, distracted by the thought that he had wanted, once upon a time. It takes a long time for Seokjin to find words, to find something that could translate into human language.
“To swim,” He says simply. “To be in the ocean, or with my family. Something.”
“You aren’t with your family?”
“No.” He debates how much to say, but eventually, Seokjin decides, fuck it . He’s been quiet for long enough, and something about Namjoon is comforting, and soothing, and encouraging. “I lost them, when I was very young.”
“I’m sorry,” Namjoon says, and Seokjin thinks he actually means it, even if he doesn’t know the real truth of the matter. How Seokjin strayed too far from them, despite the warnings he’d been given his entire life. How he wanted to stretch human legs and snuck away and got caught by someone that recognized the coat drying on a rock and what he was.
How Giho locked it away, for years, and forced Seokjin to be his ticket to wealth.
“So am I.”
It becomes an irregularly regular thing, Namjoon walking him home.
He can’t do it every night. They’re both too aware of the way Giho watches them, though for different reasons. Namjoon doesn’t know what Giho has done to others in his position, the lengths he’s gone to ensure Seokjin stays his.
But the nights when he can, when Giho leaves for some dinner or event or something and Taehyung can come up with a believable excuse...those are the nights that Seokjin starts looking forward to.
He learns so much about Namjoon - that he studied marine biology in school, got his doctorate in it as soon as he could; that he visits his parents’ grave every Wednesday morning, leaves flowers for them when he has the money; that he wants to travel the world and help endangered species everywhere, wants to take Taehyung with him as a nature photographer; that he’s the best man Seokjin has ever known with the biggest heart and the most patience that he’s ever seen.
Namjoon doesn’t question why Seokjin only ever gives vague answers, or skirts around mentions of where he comes from, or why he doesn’t have a phone. He doesn’t ask Seokjin to let him up into the apartment, or answer his questions, or explain why he stays at arm’s length despite leaning closer because Namjoon is warm.
He doesn’t question any of it, and it makes Seokjin’s heart flutter dangerously in his chest, and it means that when Namjoon asks if he has a free day anytime soon, Seokjin only hesitates for a second before he responds.
“Giho has a business trip coming up,” he tells Namjoon. “As long as we have three full shoots, he won’t suspect anything.”
“Will you come with me?” Namjoon asks. “I just want to distract you for the day. I’ve seen your life, what you do, so much. I’d like to show you mine, if you’ll let me.”
He should say no. He shouldn’t go with him, he should say no, and stop letting Namjoon walk him home, and let Giho move them across the country again.
“Sure.”
The day comes. Seokjin dresses nicer, though he’ll never admit it. A nice button-down, black slacks, hair styled, sunglasses to combat the glare in the sky. Giho is gone for three days - three marvelous, liberated days - and Seokjin can use that time to come up with a believable excuse if he’s recognized.
Namjoon looks like he always does - warmth and welcome and strength. It settles in Seokjin’s chest the second he sees Namjoon, and he wonders if this is what people meant when they say they found home in someone.
He doesn’t ask Namjoon where they’re going; just follows him onto the subway, and off, and on, and off again, listening to him talk about this cafe and that bookstore and the busker on the corner. He gets the full experience of Namjoon’s commute, and he couldn’t be more in love with him.
With it. He’s in love with it , the commute, seeing what other people do each day. That’s all, because that’s all he can let himself have.
When they arrive, Seokjin stares. He doesn’t know why he didn’t know, why he didn’t put the pieces together from all the times Namjoon has mentioned his work and his degree, but he didn’t...he didn’t think , didn’t even consider, and now he stands on the sidewalk, staring at the large building, and Namjoon is waiting for him.
“Seokjin?” He asks softly. “We can turn around right now.”
He looks at Namjoon - really looks at him. Takes in the nice turquoise shirt and the cuffed slacks and the dress shoes, the glasses that are so thick Seokjin wonders how he sees without them at all, the way there’s already disappointment clouding the acceptance in his eyes.
“No,” He says. “No, it’s fine. Let’s go.”
He shouldn’t be here, his mind tells him throughout each exhibit. Not just because of Giho this time, but for himself.
Namjoon is so excited about each exhibit, telling him about each creature as they go through. He mentions how each one has its own name, though they get confused sometimes for the larger populations. How so many have been released into the wild successfully, how so many have been rebuilt and are on the brink of non-endangered status.
He talks about the sharks, and how Louise and Wheein haven’t been getting along, but that Yari and Chainsaw are expecting a pup soon; he talks about the penguins and how Potato keeps stealing extra fish but he does it to give to Frenchie, so they let him get away with it; he talks about the jellyfish, and the rays, and the octopuses, and everyone and everything, and it’s nearly too much for Seokjin, but he manages.
He gets through nearly the entire aquarium, exhausted but content with the happy grin on Namjoon’s face, but he stops, because Namjoon has mentioned Maple throughout the entire trip, has talked about her before. Seokjin knows Maple’s history better than his own, almost, but he never realized…
Now he does. He watches as Maple dives back down off the landing, flipping and turning in the water. They stand in a viewing area, a room long and tall and tinted blue with the water at the bottom of the tank. It gives way to land halfway up, is more than generous for the lone animal that dances through the water.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Namjoon asks. “She’s the one we’re working hardest with. Hawaiian monk seals are critically endangered, so when she was brought in as a pup, she took first priority. We’re doing everything we can to get her back up to breeding standards. She keeps getting sick, though, and no pregnancy has been viable so far.”
Seokjin doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even blink. He doesn’t know this seal, not really; she’s just a seal, she’s not like him, she’s not even the same species, but a human wouldn’t know that. Especially not a human like Namjoon, completely out of the loop on all of it.
“She wants to be free.”
He can see it when Namjoon turns to look at him, confused. Watches the reflection in the glass as closely as he watches Maple’s mourning dance.
“Her environment is larger than most,” Namjoon says. “She’s got plenty of room to swim and we’ve got activity sets throughout so she’s mentally stimulated as well. She eats, probably more than she should, and-”
“A cage is still a cage, no matter how pretty it is.” Seokjin can see it, can hear Maple’s call, can feel it in his very soul as the urge to respond grows. She spots them standing there and swims closer, and Seokjin places a hand on the glass wall. “She wants to be back in the ocean.”
“It’s dangerous for her there,” Namjoon says quietly. He says it like he knows, like he’s always known, what she needs, but doesn’t want to admit it. “There isn’t enough food, humanity keeps taking their territory...she’s sick. She wouldn’t survive out there.”
Better to die free than spend eternity in a cage, Seokjin thinks bitterly. He takes a breath and reminds himself that Namjoon cares. He’s helping, in the only way that he knows how.
Maple spins when she spots Namjoon, clearly excited, but when her eyes land on Seokjin, she stills.
“Ah, she’s not always friendly to strangers, so…” Namjoon trails off. His reflection shows his jaw slack, open in a surprised o , because he’s wrong, this time.
Maple lets out a whistle - long, and low, and haunting in the stillness of the building. Her nose is nearly against the glass, she’s so close, and she looks straight into him. She sees him, recognizes him for what he is, and uses the call.
Seokjin can feel the snap as his soul breaks; what little was left of him shatters, into pieces. He can’t return her call, he can’t tell her that he sees, that he knows what she’s feeling and will do what he can to help her, because he can’t . He can’t help her, he has no way to save her from her cage because he’s stuck in his own.
She must see it, somehow, because her song trails off, and Seokjin hates himself. He hates himself for being here, for allowing himself to get close to Namjoon when he can’t, for not being able to even hear her song the way it deserves to be heard.
“Hey,” Namjoon calls, soft and quiet. His thumb brushes hesitantly along Seokjin’s cheek, carrying a tear with it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”
“I’m fine,” Seokjin tells him. “I’ve got to be up early tomorrow, to do the shoots, so I’m gonna head home.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
He turns on his heel and walks out, ignoring Namjoon’s question entirely. He can’t lie right now, he does want Namjoon with him, but he can’t. It’s too dangerous, and seeing Maple just reminded him of it.
He can’t let Namjoon get hurt just because he makes Seokjin feel marginally better.
In his wake, Namjoon sighs. He turns to Maple, wishing he was up top in his wetsuit so he could run his fingers through her fur the way she likes. Her eyes are big and sad, more so than usual, and Namjoon thinks maybe he understands her for the first time.
“I’ll try,” He tells her. “I’ll try.”
Weeks pass. Months fly by. Shoot after shoot after shoot gets published, and Giho rakes in the cash from them. Seokjin stays in his small apartment, watching the light reflect rainbows through the window pane. He stopped letting Namjoon walk him home when Giho got back, and nearly ripped part of Seokjin’s hair out with fury that he’d gone out.
The only reason it wasn’t worse is because Seokjin managed to convince him that it was promo for the upcoming swimwear collection, and good press about the humanitarian efforts of the label.
It doesn’t matter anyway, because Namjoon stopped showing up after a few days. Seokjin refuses to ask Taehyung why, because he shouldn’t care. He can’t care. Not with Giho hovering over his shoulder at every turn.
One day, for some reason, things change. Giho gets less certain, more fidgety. Starts looking over his own shoulder. Stops threatening Seokjin with every glance.
Stops glancing altogether.
It just makes Seokjin worry more; if the one in charge is afraid of something, everyone else should be as well. That was the first lesson his mother taught him.
Seokjin gathers his things. Packs them all back into his suitcase, keeps a single change of clothes out and starts washing them every day. Giho looks ready to run, and Seokjin knows by now that he needs to be ready when it happens if he wants to keep any of his things.
Then Giho disappears.
Giho disappears for a while .
He doesn’t take Seokjin with him. He just disappears one night, when everything is quiet and still. The calendar is still booked with shoots, so Seokjin just keeps working. One night, he and Taehyung go out for Korean BBQ. The entire week after that, Seokjin expects Giho to pop up and berate him for doing anything that isn’t working, but it never comes.
A few weeks later, they go on a day trip to a mountain and walk the trails together while Taehyung takes pictures. Neither of them mention Giho or Namjoon or anything except the way the leaves fall.
Life goes on. For months, Seokjin begins tiptoeing across the line. He goes out more often. The time between shoots gets longer and longer, and Seokjin begins to enjoy things. He goes to see movies, and shopping, and eating, and travelling. He starts doing the things he wants to do.
He sees Namjoon again.
They get dinner together, whenever they’re both free. It starts with Taehyung inviting him for drinks, and turns into them meeting each other at the cafe on the corner that makes the good boba. They talk for what could be hours, or what could be minutes. Seokjin never knows, because everything else seems to stop when he’s with Namjoon.
He says as much as he can, as much as he dares, but it never seems like it’s enough. Namjoon takes what Seokjin gives him, more than happy to be included again, but they both know that there’s a time limit on it. Still, Seokjin fools himself into thinking that it’s become an if , instead of being a when .
He fools himself into thinking that this can be his life.
It takes almost four months. It’s been nearly a year since Seokjin first met Namjoon - he refuses to acknowledge that he remembers the day. Giho returns in a whirlwind.
He interrupts the shoot, throws the clothes around, breaks some mannequins, it’s all out war on the set, and they all watch silently. The only thing that keeps him from breaking Taehyung’s camera is the look on the younger’s face when Giho goes for it.
But of course, nothing lasts forever. He spots Seokjin, sitting as still as a statue in the makeup chair, and that’s the beginning of the end. He recognizes the feral rage in God's eyes, has seen it barely contained too many times before, and he’s clearly not holding back this time.
He has Seokjin on the ground, under his shoe, with a cane against his throat when the door opens. The others have tried to help, but Giho is surprisingly adept with a cane when he wants to be, and as such, no one has gotten close. But Seokjin can guess what time it is, he knows in his bones who just walked in, and he refuses to let this happen.
“You,” Giho hisses. The pressure on Seokjin’s throat disappears as Giho stands; the model coughs, several times, choking down air even as his hand darts out to wrap around his owner’s ankle.
The elder crumples to the ground, kicking at Seokjin’s steel grip, but it’s useless, because Seokjin is tired.
He is tired of being afraid of a bitter old man. He is tired of being without the sea. He is tired of not allowing himself to be happy.
He’s on top of Giho before he even realizes he’s moved, prying the cane from his hands and holding it steady over Giho’s windpipe. He doesn’t press down, not yet; just holds it there, like the threat it is.
“You will not hurt him,” Seokjin commands. “And you will run, as far as you can get. You will run to the ends of the earth, and then, God willing, you will run further. You will leave your wealth and your fame and everything I have made for you, and if you dare to show your face among humanity again…”
“What?” Giho spits, a smirk growing on his face. “What is a defenseless little pup like you going to do?”
Seokjin leans down, letting the cane choke the man below him as he drops his voice. “I will find my brethren, and I will tell them what you have done. They will spread your story far and wide, across every ocean, over every continent, and when they find you, they will remind you why we are considered predators.”
He sits back, letting the cane go and allowing air back into his lungs. He stands on his own two feet, the legs that have carried him for so long, and he looks around.
“This shoot is over,” Seokjin says. “Everyone get out.”
The people scramble, even Taehyung gathers his things to leave, and the room is empty in seconds. Only he and Giho remain.
The elder lies on the floor, still catching his breath, as Seokjin tosses the cane across the room. He looks around, spots an old iron trash can from a shoot last month, and starts toward it.
“It won’t do you any good,” Giho says. Seokjin ignores him and hefts the can up, carrying it across the room. “You won’t get anywhere. You can’t just disappear, not when the world knows your face.”
“Maybe so,” Seokjin says as he positions himself. “But at least I’ll have the choice.”
He brings the iron can down with all his strength. There’s a colossal crash as it connects with the old padlock, and it only gets louder with the next one. It takes seven hits for the lock to break, and the sound of it clattering to the floor isn’t one he’s likely to forget.
When he opens the trunk, however, it’s empty.
“I told you,” Giho hisses triumphantly. “It won’t do any good.”
Seokjin resists the urge to curse under his breath and forces himself not to sob as he looks back at Giho.
“Then it won’t do you any good either.”
The sand is warm beneath his feet. The setting sun paints the sky a myriad of colors, orange turning into red bleeding into purple shifting into blue curling into black, all of it reflected in the cool water below. The tang of salt wafts in with every breath he takes, and just confirms that this is right.
“Thanks for meeting me,” Namjoon says from behind him. Seokjin didn’t hear him approach, but he didn’t need to. He knows Namjoon won’t hurt him.
“Thanks for calling,” Seokjin responds. He feels the tide tickle his toes, and he knows that this is best. “I actually wanted to tell you something.”
“I think I should go first,” Namjoon’s voice is firm, but hesitant. Like he doesn’t want to say what he’s saying. Seokjin turns, frowning slightly when he sees the other. Namjoon looks troubled, looks like he would rather be anywhere else, and that doesn’t bode well for Seokjin.
Still, he gestures for Namjoon to continue.
“Tae pointed it out,” Namjoon eventually says. “He mentioned how you looked at it, and thought maybe...maybe it had passports or something inside, something you could use to get away. So when he left, and we thought he might not come back...I opened it.”
A weight settles in Seokjin’s throat.
“Opened what?”
“The trunk,” Namjoon says. “I broke in and I picked the lock and...I didn’t know it was...I didn’t think he had it….” He sighs and pulls his hands from behind his back, and there it is.
Seokjin’s coat.
It’s silky and smooth and soft and perfect and exactly as he remembers it. It’s bigger now, grown with him, and the sight of it in the light is enough to bring tears to his eyes.
“He had some kind of alert on the trunk,” Namjoon continues, “So when I opened it he knew. That’s why he came back. I didn’t know he would come back.”
“Namjoon…” Seokjin looks at him, eyes wide and tear-filled, and for the first time since they met, Seokjin is scared. His life is here, right in front of him, but he doesn’t know if he can have it.
Because now Namjoon knows. He knows what Seokjin is, he’s fully aware that Seokjin can’t leave without the coat in Namjoon’s hands. He could keep him forever, just as Giho intended to do.
“I didn’t know,” Namjoon says again. “Or I wouldn’t have taken you to the aquarium. I wouldn’t have done that to you, I wouldn’t have hurt you like that, and I am... so sorry, Seokjin. I’m so sorry that I did that to you, I-”
“Namjoon, you didn’t know-”
“But now I do.” Namjoon sniffles slightly, and his hands shake, but he extends them, holding the coat out to Seokjin. “And I’m sorry.”
Seokjin’s fingers curl in the fur, almost reverently, as he takes it. It’s still warm, and it feels like water in his hands, and it’s everything he’s missed in his life.
“Namjoon, I…” He trails off, because there’s nothing he could say. No words fit this gift, this release; there’s nothing he could say that would properly convey the emotions building in Seokjin’s chest.
“I know,” Namjoon says. “You’re not in a cage anymore. You’re free to go and do what you want to do.”
Seokjin strips his sweater off and wraps his sealskin around his shoulders. It’s the perfect size for him, exactly what he needs, and when he crashes waist-deep into the surf, it keeps him warm.
He turns, though. Namjoon stands on the shore, just out of reach of the tide, and watches him. There’s a smile on his face, small and sad, and Seokjin wants nothing more than to wipe it from his lips, but he can’t.
Because he’s free.
He turns, wrapping the skin tighter around his shoulder. When he gets under the water, he can feel it in his hair and he can feel the water against his tail and he’s almost home.
But something is missing.
There’s warmth and weightlessness and the setting sun painting the water a rainbow , but the buzz in Seokjin’s chest isn’t full. There’s something not right, something not quite perfect about this moment that he’s been dreaming of for years, and he can’t figure out what.
Namjoon stares at the horizon, wondering how far Seokjin has already gone. He sends up a small wish, a hope, that Seokjin can live his life, free and happy and himself. That he can find his family, see his pod again.
His heartbeat turns painful, something constricting his chest and making it difficult to breathe, so he turns away. The crash of the waves covers the sound of his shaky breath, because of course, of course , he would find love in a man that couldn’t stay.
Fingers tangle in his own and Namjoon turns, shocked, to see a wet Seokjin, hair damp with his sealskin around his waist.
“W-What-”
“I can’t,” Seokjin says softly. “I can’t go back, I can’t find them, I don’t know how to do that without…”
He trails off and Namjoon stares because this is it, he thinks. This is everything he’s been waiting for his entire life, here, right in front of him. He just has to let himself have it.
Seokjin’s hand pulls away from his and Namjoon mourns the loss for the brief moment it takes for the selkie to pull his sealskin off and place it carefully in Namjoon’s arms.
“Namjoon,” He says, voice hushed and serious, “I want you to...because I…”
He’s never Seokjin this unsure, this at a loss, and the way he keeps starting sentences that have no end is undeniably endearing. But he can feel Seokjin’s growing frustration at his inability to articulate his thoughts, so he just smiles.
“I know,” Namjoon says. He takes the coat and places it back in Seokjin’s hands, covering them with his own. The heat from their skin combines and warms Namjoon straight to the core. “And I love you too.”
A/N: So, my first fic post ever! I hope you enjoy! Pretty sure k pop is getting me through this pandemic, so I thought I would share the love. This is the first in a whole universe of fics, so stay tuned🤗
“Jin, man, you should go… we’ve never been to Brazil before… and who’s going to watch the maknae?” Jin just smiled absently and continued to root through the other boy’s suitcase. “They’re gonna cause an incident. Then the policia come knocking on the door and have our kids by the neck –” Namjoon continued. He wasn’t really going anywhere with this, or with anything else he’d blabbed in the hour since he’d puked in the park and rode back to the hotel with his head in Jin’s lap (he tried not to read into it).
Really, it was all Taehyung’s fault. Now, the sum of everything he felt towards Jin could and should probably be blamed on Jimin, but today, that was all Taeh. They were walking through a park, some apparently famous park (although all he could see was tree, tree, bench! tree) and Taeh slowed down his usual golden retriever pace to amble next to RM. “I get it,” he’d said, glancing towards Jimin and biting the side of his finger... or so he’d imagined?
“What?” he’d asked.
“Jin.” What’s red and red and red all over? If a grimace could be a laugh then that was the noise Namjoon made in the next moment. But what the other boy said in the next moment made Namjoon feel both less exposed and hopelessly transparent: “My oldest brother. He served. It’ll be good.” Taeh didn’t really talk about his childhood. Well, none of them really did. What did they talk about? They were so close in some ways, but still strangers in others, even after seven, eight years?
But anyway, it was hot. He thought about Jin leaving, and then he’d puked somewhere in between a tree, tree, and bench!
“Shut it off,” Jin said, making a finger gun and placing it on Namjoon’s forehead. It was as if a black hole had opened where the other boy’s finger touched his head – had he missed something Jin had said? He didn’t want to miss anything he said.
He wished Jin would touch his face, or his arm, or hold his face like a secret in between smooth palms. A look eye to eye like yes, I am here, and yes, it is okay. There was a small smile on Jin’s lips, most of it spilling from his eyes, hovering in his eyelashes. Reassurance was his aura. Of course, the problem was that it was RM’s aura too. The two of them were always that backbone. No-one had ever really asked him if he needed a steadying hand. Was it wrong for him to want to be told straight out it is okay? That it’ll be okay. It was one thing coming from Taeh, but from Jin it was truth.
RM had long been on his own, and even with the others, he’d been solo, underground with the stalactites with thousands of words strung like garland, images tacked onto stone to try to make something pretty out of something dank and dark and festering. His head echoed. He reflected again (and again), brain firing pistons a well-tuned machine, on the practicalities of being alone and the realities of being lonely.
Was it so wrong to want to be found?
Was it so wrong to want to be found by Jin?
“Here, let’s play,” Jin said, unfolding the chess board and setting it on the bed, rooting through a small bag for the pieces.
“I thought you said to stop thinking,” Namjoon began, mostly to distract himself from watching Jin’s fingertips on the pieces. Wasn’t the body just a machine too? So predictable. It was his job to be unpredictable and look where he was, doing the thing everyone always thought he’d do (but would never speak out loud).
Jin snorted. “Like that was going to happen. Hey! After this... I raid the kitchen.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. Wasn’t I supposed to be sick? Namjoon wondered. Jin stage muttered something about eating everything before the mongrels showed up, tilting his head back and laughing over one weak joke and whatever wild conversation he was creating inside of his head. Yep. I’m ILL. I’m DEAD.
Meanwhile, on the outside, Namjoon ran a hand through his hair and laid back onto the pillows. “I think I’d rather just drain everything in that mini fridge.”
“Darling, can we afford that?”
“Yes, I balanced the books last night.” A beat and then they both laughed. It was a game, just a little game. Playing house. But then it just became real and easy and sometimes Namjoon wasn’t sure if he loved the other boy or loved them all or loved himself. Whatever it was, it was certainly serious.
Jin slid off the edge of the bed, laid on his back, and rolled over to the mini fridge. “Hm. This is a challenge isn’t it, Rap Monster?”
“Damn straight World Wide. I’d like to see you try.”
And that was how they spent the rest of the afternoon into the early evening playing drunk chess. Started off as take a shot every time you captured a piece and now it was just the two of them sitting cross-legged on the bed, knee to knee, waiting for the look in the other boy’s eye that said DRINK! Jin missed his mouth from giggling. RM, confident because he was always supposed to be (appear) confident, swiftly reached over and pulled the bottom of Jin’s shirt up and used it to wipe the other boy’s mouth. A thousand years later, or a second, or time it takes to shut your eyes in pain and wake up in pleasure, the shirt fell away and his fingers were on Jin’s lips, ever so briefly, and it was like a kiss to both of them.
Namjoon lowered his hand and looked away. “We’ll never change, you know that right? When I go, or when I come back...” Jin began.
“I know! We’ll still have lots of, uh, shows, and... and the fans…” Namjoon started, stalling to stop his body from buzzing. because this is what he wanted, for Jin to hold him with his words. Granted, this wasn’t all he wanted but still, wasn’t this everything?
“I mean us. Me and you. We won’t change.”
“Never?” he said as he tilted his head to the side, even though it nearly made him sick again to be so cheeky.
“Not unless we want to,” Jin said gently, his eyes and voice heavy. RM opened his mouth to reply then closed it again. He hadn’t quite figured out what to say, or what to do, or how to climb under the other boy’s skin and live there, or how to tuck Jin inside his pocket to keep him safe, when the door flew open and Jimin stood in the doorway. Eyebrow raised, he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.
RM rolled his eyes and fell back onto the pillows, his feet in Jin’s lap. Jimin stuck his tongue out, but before any cheekiness and/or snarkiness could ensue, the others stuck their heads in the doorway. Assessing the disaster zone, bottles covering the tables like trophies, they took a running start and piled onto the bed on top of Jin and Namjoon.
