Pretend To Be Mine | Namjin FF ✓

mine to accept

Seokjin:

When I woke up, I was alone again. Sitting up straight, I winced at the soreness but couldn't help smiling.

I stood up, went to the bathroom, took a much-needed shower, then came back and dressed in one of Namjoon's shirts. I headed out of the room to find him.

As I approached the study, I found him sitting in a chair with a laptop in front of him.

His damp hair fell over his forehead as he wrote something on paper with one hand while typing on the laptop with the other.

He looked effortlessly attractive; he didn’t need to do anything but sit there to be the hottest man on the planet.

When I walked in, he looked up from the table and gave me a sweet smile that revealed his dimples. I moved closer, and he pushed his chair back as I slid onto his lap.

Wrapping my arms around him, I buried my face in his neck. Inhaling his natural, masculine scent, devoid of any cologne, was heavenly. I closed my eyes and breathed him in deeply.

“What are you doing?” I asked, feeling his warmth and wanting to fall asleep again.

“Working,” he replied, still typing on the laptop. I turned my head to look at the screen; it displayed some kind of complex stats that I couldn’t understand.

“I didn’t go to the office because I didn’t want to leave you alone,” he said softly as I pressed my face back into his neck.

Right, he has two jobs, so he’s extra busy. I sighed and simply kissed his neck.

“What do you want to eat?” I asked, feeling very hungry and wanting to make something for both of us. I wasn’t sure if he had eaten anything since he woke up.

“You,” he mumbled. I laughed because he didn’t hesitate before answering.

“You’re not going to eat me for at least a week,” I said, and I meant it because I was so sore.

“Ugh, that’s sad,” he grumbled with a disapproving grunt.

“But seriously, Namjoon?” I asked, looking up at his jawline and leaning in to press a kiss on it.

“Anything you make, I’ll eat, darling,” he told me, kissing the side of my temple. Just then, his phone rang. He looked at it and then at me.

I was sure it was a call for his mafia work. I didn’t say anything as he pressed the green button and answered with a deep “hello.”

Oh god, if I were on the other side of the phone, I would be swooning at his masculine, deep voice.

"I'll be there," he said, and I frowned. Of course, he needed to go—something important had come up.

Something important always came up, but the difference was that now I knew what awaited him. This "something important" could even cost him his life.

"Sorry, darling, I have to go," he said, pecking my lips and shutting off his computer. I pouted at this.

Then my eyes lit up.

"Where are you going?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"I have to check the shipment of weapons," he said, his voice dropping low at the last word. I leaned into him, assuring him I was fine, even though I wasn’t. I had to be fine for him.

"Can I come too?" I asked. I wanted him to know that I accepted him no matter what, and I wanted to see this part of his life—the bigger part of his life.

"No," he said immediately, shaking his head. I frowned and pouted at him.

"Why not?" I asked, giving him puppy eyes.