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yoonseoksoftie · 5 years

Text

between law and love (there are cuddles).

› pairing: namjoon x reader › word count: 1.3k › tags: husband!namjoon | detective!namjoon | fluff | slice of life › summary: ❝ namjoon is having a hard time solving a case with zero leads. when he feels that he might need to give up all his work, you show up with words of wisdom and cuddles, lots of cuddles. ❞ › a/n: hope you guys enjoy this, let me know what you think. i’m a little off my fluff game so all feedback is welcomed!

Namjoon taps his Waterman pen against the thick material of the autopsy report of his most recent case. He has been going over every detail regarding the case; lists of suspects, alibi timings, convicts who might be willing to talk and he has yet to find anything of substance. Taking another gulp of the dark and now cold liquid flowing around his “Best Husband” mug, he feels his heart clench in guilt.

Three hours have passed by since he last told you he would join you in bed soon. Eyeing the longcase clock perched to his right he realizes it is almost two in the morning. He drags a hand over his face and cracks his neck, releasing a determined sigh he looks at the picture frame holding a photograph of you and him smiling happily at each other on your wedding day. A familiar tenderness tugs at his heart, ten more minutes, he lies to himself before returning his focus to the papers spread all over the deep brown wooden desk.

Solving cases came easy to him, it was a matter of finding the missing data and setting it in place, like a puzzle. The man in the photographs was a street thug that had been moving unauthorized product in some low-income neighborhoods. Namjoon’s deduction? The boss didn’t like the idea of one of his grunts stealing from him and decided to send a message to kill any revolutionaries from rising up.

“Progress,” Seokjin’s authoritative voice resonated through every corner of his head. “That’s all I want on my desk tomorrow morning, kid.”

So now Namjoon is sitting in his desk chair way past his bedtime, ignoring the stinging pain in his lower back, analyzing every inch of the detailed photographs of the dead man. His search to find a connection between him and the crime boss Namjoon has been investigating for months looking less fruitful with each passing second.

He isn’t a fool, but it’s better to pretend. If he chose to, he could recite each report back to back without a problem and he knew every corner of the photographs like the back of his hand but he pushed on regardless, determined to find something. Just a tiny thread that could give Seokjin the impression that he was capable of building a case. He knew Seokjin was simply applying pressure because the higher-ups wanted to soothe the public. Namjoon had the highest closing rate in the entire precinct but still, it was killing him. There was no pattern, no clues, no leads with the witnesses, nothing.

The sound of his office door unlatching makes him detach his eyes from the cold case on his desk. You stand a few feet in front of him wearing one of his old t-shirts with slumber written all over your delicate features. The sight of your drowsy figure walking around his desk until you are standing in between his parted legs makes his heart beat a little faster. You look incredibly lovely with your rosy cheeks and mused hair. He can’t help the way his lips curl into a smile.

“Hey love,” he murmurs softly, pulling you into his lap.

You instantly hook your arms around his waist and snuggle him, resting your cheek on his pec. The small action steals his breath and he’s afraid you might hear the intense pounding of his heart inside his chest.

“Hey yourself,” you say lowly, the words breathing against the cool material of his white t-shirt. “It’s two in the morning.”

“Great observation,” he jokes and you bite his shoulder. “I’m sorry but, this is really important.”

You turn in his lap and inspect the papers in his desk. The pictures don’t phase you one bit, as a news reporter, you are accustomed to seeing graphic photographs of dead people in tragic accidents. That was actually how he met you. You were reporting a case he was working on, he had just made detective and his case was your first solo project. Both of you frequently met for coffee to go over any updates under the pretense that it was better the people know straight from the source than from fake news. Over time, the coffee dates ended up with the both of you conversing about your favorite movies and books until he built up the courage to ask you out on a real date.

“Anything I can help with?”

He releases a deep breath, “There’s not much to go on really, they're all dead ends.”

Soft hands run through his soft locks, massaging his scalp with the round end of your fingernails. Taking him by surprise, you inch forward and pepper kisses all over his face, starting with his forehead then moving down to his cheeks until you place one final kiss on the tip of his nose. His eyes flutter shut, happily enjoying the attention of your soft lips on his skin.

“Then why are you so invested in them, huh?”

He wants to be mad at how logical your words are but he can’t because you’re right. Dead ends never lead anywhere, he’s going to start searching elsewhere. Sometimes he wonders what he’d do without you, he loves how you make everything sound so annoyingly easy. Instead of letting out the snarky comment forming in the back of his throat, he holds his tongue and opts for the truth, not wanting to say anything that will stop your hands from caressing him.

“Seokjin wants this on his desk first thing tomorrow and all I have is a dead body and nothing to show for it.”

You pull back and he whines at the loss of contact, “I see, so Seokjin is the reason you’ve been so sleep deprived lately. Want me to go down to the precinct and kick his ass?”

“Poor Seokjin, all alone and defenseless against my guardian angel and her Jet Li moves,” he chuckles, taking your hand and placing it on his head. “I appreciate the help but I am afraid this is something I have to do on my own.”

Understanding the message you continue to massage his scalp, laying your cheek over the top of his head as he lays his head on your chest. Your sweet caresses are more than enough to chase the tension in his shoulders away. He wants nothing more than to go to bed with you. Have you wrap your arms around him and whisper sweet nothings in his ear like you always do when he’s having a particularly hard day. You always know what to say to get him to relax, like your very own superpower. A content hum bubbles in his throat and he leans into the touch of your palm, too fond of the way your nails feel against his scalp.

He can feel himself losing against you, your loving ministrations making him forget the papers on his desk.

He places soft kisses on the expanse of your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he mumbles sluggishly against your skin. “I love you.”

“Yeah?” He can hear the smile behind the single word.

He nods, looking up from your shoulder and giving you a tired smile.

“Enough to go to bed with me?” you perk up, cocking your head before leaning in and whispering, “You can be the little spoon.”

His deep laugh rumbles from his stomach to his throat, filling up the silent room. He shakes his head at your attempts to get him to bed and feels heat splattering over his cheeks because they actually worked.

“Well, in that case,” he says, nibbling playfully at the skin of your neck as he rises from his desk chair with you in his arms. “How can I possibly resist?”

The sound of your bubbly laughter resonates through the hallway walls as he makes his way to your shared bedroom, ready to fall asleep in your arms.

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