Chapter Text
You unlock the door and push it open. The space is dusty but at least there’s no clutter. The floorboards creak under your feet as you walk through the main room to the attached kitchen with its industrial size ovens. The ovens are the main reason you bought this place for your bakery.
You climb the stairs to a tiny landing with a bathroom, an unexpectedly large bedroom and a tiny room you’re hoping to use as an office.
The movers will be arriving tomorrow with your furniture, so you ought to get a move on with cleaning up.
You step back out into the street, and look curiously at the hardware shop opposite. No time like the present to meet your neighbours.
A bell tinkles as you step into the hardware store. You hear boots on the hardwood floor, then a tall man steps into view.
‘Hi, I’m –‘ your words trail off as you really see your new neighbour for the first time.
He’s gorgeous. You see tanned, muscular forearms coming out of a black t-shirt, long legs with thick thighs ending in black work boots. He towers over you, and you feel a sudden, thankfully fleeting, urge to climb him like a tree.
He smiles at you, and the appearance of pretty dimples in his cheeks has you swallowing, hard.
You try again. ‘Hi, I’m Y/N.’ Your voice comes out in a rather unattractive croak.
‘Namjoon,’ he replies.
‘I’m moving in next door – I just came to pick up some things,’ you explain.
Namjoon nods. ‘Sure. Let me know if you need any help finding anything.’
He nods at you, dimpling again as he steps aside to let you pass into the store.
You gather a few things to get started on cleaning, and impulsively pick out some tools you figure might be useful. You’ve noticed the kitchen door sticks and there are a couple of loose floorboards you need to fix before you trip over them and break something.
You head to the front desk and wait for Namjoon to come around to ring you up.
He places your items in a large box. ‘Are you pretty good at DIY?’ he asks.
You swipe your card and hoist your box. ‘Never done it,’ you say. You smile. ‘Always a first time right?’
Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and then plucks the box out of your arms. ‘Here. I’ll give you a hand getting this across.’
‘Oh don’t worry –‘ you start.
Namjoon shifts the box under one arm and gets the door with his other arm, as if to prove a point.
‘Thanks,’ you say.
You walk with him across the street and unlock your door, holding it open for him.
He steps across the threshold and sets your things down.
You smile at him as he straightens up again. ‘Thanks so much Namjoon. Feel free to come over for coffee when I get up and running.’
He smiles back at you. ‘Sounds great.’ He pauses, then looks around the empty room again. ‘Hey, I’m pretty good at DIY. I can give you a hand with things if you need help.’
There’s a warmth in his eyes which stops you from giving your stock response whenever anyone offers you help.
‘Sure,’ you say. ‘I might need a hand putting some shelves up.’
Namjoon nods. ‘Just holler.’
He steps past you slightly awkwardly and is about to leave when you ask. ‘Hey, where can I get food around here?’
Namjoon tells you about the diner at the end of the road, and the supermarket a five minute drive away.
Then he is gone, and you are alone again.
You put some music on and spend the rest of the morning cleaning out the upstairs for your furniture when it arrives tomorrow.
When you check your phone, there are a couple of messages from your sister and your best friend. There’s even one from Minho, your ex. You delete that one without reading it.
You are lugging a suitcase in from your car at the end of the day when Namjoon comes to your door.
Unprompted, he takes the suitcase from you one-handed. You let him in and turn to him.
‘I can carry things too,’ you say, smiling at him.
Namjoon laughs. ‘Of course you can. I just like helping. Want me to bring this upstairs?’
When he gets back down he looks at you a second before asking, ‘Hey, want to grab some dinner? I can show you where the diner is.’
You don’t even have to think about it. ‘That’d be great,’ you say.
You walk to a kitschy looking diner at the end of your street.
The waitress, whose name tag reads Daria, greets Namjoon warmly.
‘Hey Joonie, haven’t seen you in a while.’
Namjoon grins at her. ‘It’s been busy hasn’t it? This is Y/N, she just moved in the shop opposite the store.’
Daria gives you a none-too-friendly once over. You smile awkwardly.
Once seated, you turn to Namjoon. ‘Did you used to date Daria? Why’s she giving me vibes?’
Namjoon shrugs. ‘We dated. Broke up six months ago.’
You run a hand over your face. ‘Oh my god, Namjoon, are you the town fuckboy?’
Namjoon looks flummoxed for a second, then bursts out laughing.
‘Firstly, this isn’t that small a town. Secondly, before Daria it had been a year or so since my last relationship.’ He covers his face. ‘Thirdly, I did not expect her to give you vibes. She was chill before. It’s probably because you’re gorgeous.’
You almost miss his last statement.
There are so many things you could say.
Instead you pretend to be perusing the menu seriously. ‘What’s good here?’
Namjoon cocks an eyebrow at you. ‘Just get the fried chicken and salad.’
You place the menu flat on the table. ‘Sure. Sounds great.’
You stare at each other for a minute across the table. Then you wink at him.
Namjoon chuckles, and you pat his hand.
‘Thanks for showing me where not to go for dinner,’ you say.
Namjoon just laughs again. ‘I’m sorry. My mum also does great fried chicken. I’ll just take you to my parents’ place next time.’
‘Brave of you to assume there’ll be a next time,’ you mutter. You peek up at him, and he dimples at you.
A very beautiful man in uniform stops by your table, greeting Namjoon with a firm hug.
‘Thought you weren’t allowed back here,’ the beautiful man says.
He looks at you. ‘I’m Jin.’
‘Y/N,’ you say, blinking away the image of the two gorgeous men embracing.
‘Y/N’s moved in opposite the store,’ Namjoon says.
‘Great to meet you. I’m the chief of police. The station’s just down the road from you if you need anything,’ Jin tells you. He smiles, and you blink again.
‘Sure,’ you say.
He nods. ‘I won’t interrupt your dinner.’
Namjoon walks you back to your place after dinner.
Politely, he waits until you’ve unlocked your door before he turns to leave.
‘Wait,’ you say.
He looks down at you in the twilight. ‘Yeah?’ he asks.
You reach out and tug at the fold of fabric on the front of his t-shirt.
Namjoon lets you pull him forward. You back up against your door, and he automatically lifts a forearm to brace himself near your head.
He is beautiful. He looks down at you, waiting.
You slide your arms up around his neck, and he tilts his head down to help you bridge the gap in your heights.
Your lips are centimetres from his, and still, he waits.
It’s only when you go up on tiptoe to press your lips to his that he huffs out a breath.
‘You sure you want this?’ he asks.
‘I think so,’ you whisper.
He cups your face then, and kisses you properly.
Before long you are in Namjoon’s truck, arms braced around his broad shoulders as you ride him. ‘Fuck!’ he grunts, big hands around your ass helping you slam your hips into his lap.
Namjoon pulls your t-shirt up, and your bra down, and then his warm mouth is suckling at your breast, the suction on your nipple making you tighten around him.
His hand slips between you, stroking your clit.
‘You’re so fucking hot,’ he tells you. He bucks his hips then, holding you to him, and the sudden lunge of his hips sends you over the edge.
‘Namjoon,’ you moan, and he grunts again.
‘Go on, take it, baby,’ he tells you. ‘Take fucking all of me.’
You cry out as you cum on his cock, and Namjoon lets out a deep moan as he empties himself within you.
You rest your head on his shoulder, panting hard.
Namjoon wraps his strong arms around you, and you feel so content in that moment that you think you might cry.
Namjoon strokes your hair. ‘I’ve a spare room at mine,’ he tells you. ‘You can stay over tonight if you want.’
You smile at him. ‘I guess that beats my sleeping bag.’
Namjoon lives a ten-minute drive away from his shop, in a two-storey ranch house. The inside is a mix of cosy and modern.
You look at the pictures he has hanging on the walls in his kitchen as he makes you a drink.
There are pictures of a younger Namjoon, surrounded by friends. The only person you recognise is Jin.
Namjoon hands you a mug of tea and takes a sip from his own.
‘Are most of your friends here in town?’ you ask.
Namjoon looks at the pictures, a fond smile on his face. He nods to a rather intense looking man with beautiful dark eyes. ‘Yoongi teaches piano. Seokjin you’ve met. There are my parents. They live a few houses away.’
You look through his bookcase. It looks like he reads an eclectic mix of high-brow and mainstream fiction.
Namjoon shows you to his spare room, and you could cry at the sight of the crisp white sheets.
‘Thanks for putting me up for the night,’ you say. ‘This definitely beats my sleeping bag.’
Namjoon nods. He disappears into his own bedroom, coming out with a change of clothes for you. ‘Feel free to use the bathroom to freshen up. I’ll be watching a film downstairs. You can join me if you like.’
You take a shower and join Namjoon on his sofa. He lifts up an arm, wordlessly inviting you to curl up against him.
You plant a kiss on his neck, tongue flicking out against his warm skin.
Namjoon hums. He tightens his arm around you, pulling you into his lap.
You watch, delighted, as he undoes the pull tie on the sweats he has loaned you, undoing the waistband enough that he can slide his hand into them.
His warm hand cups you. ‘Oh, no panties?’ he murmurs.
His fingers slide over you, stroking, exploring, and you whimper.
‘Love the way you sound,’ Namjoon tells you, voice husky. ‘Drives me crazy.’
He scissors his fingers, stretching you. He pulls out suddenly, and you realise he is sucking on his fingers.
Neither of you is watching the film now.
He lays you down on his sofa, pulling his sweats down off your hips and ass.
Namjoon braces his forearms on either side of you, tilting his head down. He presses his face against your core and inhales. You whimper again.
Namjoon flicks his eyes up at you as his tongue starts to draw lazy circles around your clit.
He licks up into you, and you moan as he presses his lips to your clit and sucks.
‘Joon,’ you plead.
He smirks at you. ‘What do you want baby?’
‘You know I want your dick,’ you reply.
Namjoon reaches into the pocket of his sweats, pulling out a condom.
‘As you wish,’ he says.
He unrolls the condom over his beautiful hard cock, then enters you in one hard thrust.
God, Namjoon is so fucking good at this. You tell him so in increasingly breathless cries, and finally in the way you cum around his cock again as he fucks into you.
Afterward, Namjoon discards the condom and cuddles you on the sofa. There is a niggling at your brain then.
‘Joon, that first time in your truck, we didn’t use protection.’
‘I’m clean,’ he tells you.
‘Me too,’ you say. ‘But –‘
Namjoon’s eyes are intense on yours. ‘Is it a bad time of the month
for you?’
You yawn. ‘Not the worst. I think.’
Namjoon pulls you into his chest and holds you until you fall asleep.
***
It’s been a couple of weeks since you moved into town and you think you’re settling in ok. Apart from Namjoon and Jin, you’ve met Mrs Lee who runs a market stall at the weekends where you get your weekly necessities and Hoseok who runs the bar on your road.
You take one last look at the display case with the array of pastries you have freshly baked, and your sparkling crockery and brand spanking new coffee machine and turn the sign on the door to ‘Open’.
The first person to come in to your café is an intense looking man who looks strangely familiar. He orders an espresso, and you try not to look too excited as you ring him up.
‘Will you be having your coffee here?’ you ask, hoping he will.
He nods. ‘Yeah.’
He takes a seat in one of the tables near the window. It’s a few weeks before Christmas, and it’s a startlingly clear day, the air crisp and cold enough that a warm drink is welcome.
The man looks over at you as you start working on a chalkboard sign with your menu.
‘I’m Yoongi,’ he says. He offers you a crooked smile.
You beam back at him. ‘I’m Y/N. You’re a friend of Namjoon’s aren’t you? He says you teach piano.’
Yoongi nods. ‘I teach piano and guitar at the school.’
‘Do you think I should play music?’ you ask. ‘In here, I mean. Or is it too obtrusive?’
Yoongi seems to be considering your question carefully. ‘I think if you had a subtle playlist it would add a nice vibe. I can pick out some pieces for you if you want.’
‘Sure. That would be lovely,’ you say. ‘God, everyone in this place is so nice.’
You go back to your sign, concentrating on trying to make your script as even as possible.
‘Do you make your pastries?’ Yoongi asks.
You look up at him from where you are cross-legged on the floor. ‘Yeah. I’m actually going to start doing my own lemon tart as a specialty. I’ve been perfecting the recipe for years.’
‘Yeah?’ Yoongi asks.
‘Yeah. Would you like a pastry? Or a refill on your coffee? I made these this morning,’ you say, pointing out the almond croissants.
Yoongi chooses one and you settle back to your previous spots.
‘Why lemon tart?’ Yoongi asks, after a moment.
‘I just thought I wanted to do something well. I really got into it,’ you say. You make a face. ‘You know how some people have a talent. I just never found a talent I could be proud of.’ You shrug. ‘So I decided to bake. But everyone can bake. So I thought I’d do lemon tart.’
Yoongi snorts, and for a moment you look at him, then realise he is laughing at you.
You grin ruefully at him. ‘Not all of us can be good at something, like you.’
‘How do you know I’m good at anything?’ Yoongi asks.
‘Namjoon says you are.’ You smile up at him. ‘He says you’re amazing.’
Yoongi scoffs, but his voice is gentle when he speaks. ‘He says you’re amazing.’
‘Yeah but that’s because he wants to get into my pants,’ you say. You get up, brushing off your chalky hands. ‘There’s no reason for him to say that about you.’
Yoongi laughs.
You both look towards the door as Jin walks in.
‘Jin,’ you say in greeting. ‘How are you? What can I get you?’
Jin puts in an order from the station house and whilst you get it ready he talks quietly to Yoongi.
You pack it up for him. ‘You know, you can call ahead and I can get it all ready for someone to collect, if you want,’ you offer. ‘Or I can run it down myself.’
Jin smiles at you, and you blink at how pretty he is. ‘That’s really kind,’ he says.
‘My grandfather was a policeman,’ you tell him.
Jin smiles again, and tips his hat to you as he leaves.
Your phone lights up from where you’ve plugged it into the wall.
Joon: How’s it going?
You barely have time to look up before you hear your door open again.
‘Joon,’ you say, unable to stop the smile taking over your face.
Namjoon steps into your café, and although you have seen him every day since you met two weeks ago, your heart does its familiar flutter when he looks your way.
He gives you a warm hug, strong arms curling around you. You kiss him on the chest, which is the only place you can reach unless he leans down, and you hear the rumble of laughter from his chest before you hear the sounds fall from his lips.
‘My mouth is over here,’ he says, tilting his head down. You kiss him again, breathing in his now familiar scent.
‘How’s business?’ he asks.
‘So far I’ve had Yoongi and Jin. Did you tell all your friends to come in?’ you ask, teasingly.
‘Yoongi’s been waiting for a café to open up here since he moved back,’ Namjoon replies dryly.
His warm hand trails down your back, and you fight to look unaffected by his touch.
‘Let me fix you a drink,’ you say, stepping towards your machine.
‘Want me to work on those shelves later?’ Namjoon asks.
‘Yeah, sounds perfect,’ you say. You want some wooden planks hanging above your coffee station that you’re going to put some foliage on.
‘Sure. I’ll pick up dinner too,’ Namjoon says. He accepts the cup of coffee you make him and throws you a smile as he leaves.
***
Namjoon’s broad back as he flexes to put up your shelves is making you feel all sorts of ways. God, the man can work a power drill.
You slip in behind the counter and drop to your knees in front of him.
Namjoon looks down at you, looking more amused than anything. That rapidly changes when you work your way into the fly of his jeans and slip his cock out.
‘Mmm,’ you murmur, licking up his firming cock. You love the taste and smell of him. You love the way his breathing changes when you slip him into your warm mouth. You love the way he thickens and hardens for you.
Namjoon reaches down, tugging at the top button on your white shirt whilst you moan around his cock.
He tugs a little too hard, and the top two buttons go flying.
You make a sound of protest that rapidly changes into another moan as he reaches down, lifting your breasts out of your bra, thumb circling your nipples. He lifts a hand and it lands on the curve of your neck, fingers splaying on your shoulder and thumb pressing lightly against the hollow between your collarbones.
‘This cock,’ you say, almost conversational, as you pull off and use your saliva and the pre-cum leaking from his tip to lubricate the stroke of your hand.
‘Yeah? You like it?’ Namjoon grunts. He is still plucking at your nipples, seemingly fascinated by how they are now standing at attention for him.
‘Yeah,’ you say. You don’t have to elaborate. You’ve shown him, multiple times by this point, how much you adore his cock.
You take him in your mouth again, pulling his hips to your face, trying to fit all of him in, and he groans, deep in his chest.
‘Fuck,’ Namjoon says, the single word coming out emphatic, drawn out, slow.
You flick your eyes up at him, just to see his beautiful fucked out face as he spurts into your mouth. You swallow, not wanting to waste any, and gently lick him clean.
Namjoon pulls you up into an embrace, leaning his weight against you.
‘You’re really fucking good at this,’ he tells you.
‘Maybe this can be my talent,’ you say thoughtfully. Namjoon laughs. He knows about your self-imposed lemon tart challenge.
‘I’ve never tasted your lemon tart,’ he says, ‘but it’d have to be pretty damn amazing to beat those pretty lips around my cock.’
***
You pull the croissants you have baked out of the oven and stack them onto the slate. The aroma of freshly ground coffee fills the air, and as you shake cinnamon over the cinnamon buns you prepared earlier, you think you’ve never smelt anything better.
Apparently Namjoon agrees. He pops up, looking sleepy but hopeful in his pyjamas.
‘This is the best thing about sleeping over at yours,’ he says, voice still husky from sleep.
‘You are the best thing,’ you reply. You pass him a mug of coffee and a cinnamon bun, and you settle in for breakfast together. It’s 6am and you’re set to open in an hour.
It’s still dark outside, as you close in on Christmas it’s harder to wake up in the mornings but overall business is going well. It seems the town was crying out for a ‘fancy coffee joint’ as you’ve heard your café described.
There is a knock at your door and you let Yoongi in. He is up all hours and often stops by early for breakfast.
Yoongi hangs up his coat and hat, silvery hair mussed over his forehead, nose pink from the cold.
‘Usual?’ you ask.
Yoongi nods, greeting Namjoon. The rumble of their low voices makes the atmosphere warmer as you finish getting the rest of your pastries ready for open time.
There is another knock at the door, and you see Jin.
You let him in. He looks exhausted.
‘Come on in, have a seat,’ you say, helping Jin off with his coat.
Jin looks at you. ‘I wasn’t sure if you were open, but I saw Yoongi go in.’
‘You’re always welcome, Jin,’ you say, smiling warmly at him. ‘Busy night?’
‘There was a domestic,’ he says. For a moment he looks so tired you feel like bundling him in a hug.
‘Come on. I’ll make you a drink. Pastries are fresh.’
You set him up with Namjoon and Yoongi and go out the back to check if the bins are full.
There is someone in your back garden. ‘Hello?’ you call, and whoever it is knocks over the bins in their haste to get away. The rickety back door of the passage swings open, slamming against the brick. You look out on the street but they’re gone.
When you get back in to the kitchen you see Namjoon.
‘You ok?’ he asks.
‘Yeah, there was someone in the back garden,’ you tell him. ‘Maybe it was someone looking for food or something.’
Namjoon frowns. ‘How’d they get in?’
‘Oh the lock’s broken. I keep meaning to fix it.’
Namjoon rubs his hands across your upper arms, trying to warm you up. ‘I’ll fix it for you tonight,’ he says.
Which reminds you. ‘Hey, my parents, my sister and her husband are coming for dinner next week. I’d love it if you could be there,’ you say.
Namjoon doesn’t even blink. ‘I’d like that. Also my parents are keen to meet you – would you like to come for dinner at theirs this weekend?’
‘Sure,’ you say.
You smile at each other.
‘Gosh this is quite adult isn’t it,’ you joke.
Namjoon touches your cheek. ‘Adult is what you and I do in the bedroom, and the truck. And the bathroom.’
‘No Namjoon,’ you tease. ‘That’s X-rated.’
You smile fondly at him as he goes upstairs to get changed.
You slide into the seat next to Yoongi. At first you weren’t sure if he wanted to spend time with you or if he was just being polite because of your Namjoon and coffee monopoly, but unless he’s a consummate actor, you think he does like chatting to you.
‘I think if you ever leave this town I’ll have to buy your shop and everything in it,’ Yoongi tells you.
You feel a sudden pang of guilt. ‘I’m not leaving yet,’ you say. You grin at him. ‘Guess you’re stuck with me.’
Jin is starting to look less pale and tired. He gets up to go, and you wrap up some fresh pastries and another coffee for him.
‘Take this to Mina and you’ll be the amazing husband who came back with food,’ you say.
Jin smiles gratefully at you.
It’s still before seven, but the lights on in the otherwise darkened street seem to be attracting all the people heading out for their commute in the city.
Yoongi sits quietly in the corner with Namjoon as you serve everyone. The train station is a three-minute walk away from your café, which also seems to work in your favour.
By the time you have a spare moment to check your phone, it’s mid-morning. There is another message from Minho.
You delete it without reading it. Minho and you dated for three years. You met in your previous life as an accounts manager for an advertising company, and for a long time you were happier than you’d ever been. Which is why you were blindsided when you came back unexpectedly early from a work trip and found him in bed with his assistant.
Such a cliché, in so many ways.
You left the next day.
You negotiated a year-long sabbatical with your employer, and it was on one of your first days off in a long time, looking idly in the front window of an estate agent display, that you saw a sale ad for this place.
Now here you are.
Namjoon knows about your sabbatical, and he knows a bit about Minho. You spared him the sordid details of the affair. Like how she looked a little bit like you, down to the shade of your hair and the shape of your face. Like how she used to always look at your clothes carefully when you came to meet Minho for lunch.
Guess Minho also noticed.
It’s not even about his assistant. It’s about how he convinced you he was loyal, the kind of man you could take to meet your parents (he did). How could you trust him after that?
You snap back to the present with a start as your door opens. A man walks in and orders a latte. You serve him and impulsively delete Minho’s number from your phone.
You aren’t sure what you’re doing with Namjoon, but he was polite and nice, and he helped you and damn he’s gorgeous so there’s that.
***
Namjoon watches as you smooth your skirt over your thighs.
‘You look very pretty,’ he says, trying to be reassuring.
You smile at him. ‘I just want to make a good impression on your parents,’ you say. ‘Not seem like the kind of girl who fucked you in your truck hours after we met.’
Namjoon drops a kiss on your head. ‘You’re exactly that kind of girl. You’re also the kind of girl who looks after everyone and makes an amazing cup of coffee. I wouldn’t change anything about you.’
He glances askance at the lemon tart you have baked and left to cool whilst you get ready.
‘Not sure about the lemon tart though.’
‘I think you’ll like it,’ you tell him. You toss your hair.
It turns out Namjoon’s parents are as lovely as he is. You don’t know why you were expecting any different.
Mrs Kim passes you the salad bowl, urging you to serve yourself. You take a bit and pass it on.
‘I’ve wanted to visit your café,’ she tells you. ‘Yoongi keeps raving about it.’
‘Oh do you see Yoongi often?’ you ask.
‘We work together,’ Mrs Kim tells you, beaming. ‘I’m the principal of the secondary school.’
You smile. ‘Well you’re very welcome, anytime. We’re open early, so you can drop by before work if it’s on your way.’
Mr Kim passes you the fried chicken. ‘Namjoon says he’s teaching you how to do DIY.’
‘He’s very helpful,’ you say, smiling affectionately at Namjoon. ‘He’s currently helping me put up shelves.’
‘I do a bit of carpentry,’ Mr Kim tells you. ‘So if there’s a bit of furniture you need, let me know and I’ll make it.’
‘That’s really kind,’ you say.
After dinner you help Mrs Kim clear up and Namjoon grabs you on your way back to the dining room, pulling you into the guest bathroom.
‘Look at you,’ he says, dimpling. ‘Charming the pants off my parents. They want you to come for Christmas, you know.’
‘I only want to charm your pants off,’ you reply instantly. You pause. ‘Do you think they like me?’
‘I don’t see how anyone in their right mind wouldn’t like you,’ Namjoon says, honestly. His eyes drop to the way your teeth are worrying your bottom lip. Christ. He leans down and captures your mouth in a hungry kiss. Immediately, you press close. He loves the way you seem to melt into him everytime he kisses you.
Your hand presses against his chest. ‘Joonie, your parents,’ you warn.
‘I think they know how sex works,’ Namjoon says. He has the audacity to dimple at you.
‘Later,’ you promise.
Later, at your place, Namjoon enjoys the view as he pumps his cock in and out of your slick pussy. He lifts your blue skirt to your waist, hand sliding down the front of your pelvis to stroke your clit.
You cry out when he touches you.
‘Joonie,’ you moan.
God he loves the way you say his name. He tugs at the zipper of your dress, wanting to feel more of your skin, and pulls it over your head. He unhooks your bra with his teeth, bringing his free hand up to cup your breast.
You hiss when he plucks at your nipple. ‘Gentle, Joonie.’
‘Sensitive?’ he breathes.
Instead of replying, you reach a hand back to pull him harder against you. You both moan as he bottoms out inside you.
‘So fucking deep,’ he pants.
‘God, Joonie, please,’ you moan. You turn your head, and the sight of your gorgeously fucked out expression nearly makes him cum then and there.
He flips you over onto your back, lifting one of your legs so he can enter you again.
‘Please,’ you beg.
Namjoon thinks then that he would do anything to get you what you want. ‘I’ve got you,’ he promises. He grinds against you, and dips his head to mouth at your tits.
He knows the exact moment you cum, and thank god you do because the gorgeous sounds falling from your lips are driving him crazy. Namjoon thrusts once, twice, fucking into you and spilling into the condom.
He is careful not to squash you as he lays down on the bed, which is difficult as you seem to be keen to stay as close as possible to him.
He presses a kiss into your hair. ‘So good,’ he says, wanting you to hear it.
Your eyes are sleepy, face pressed to his chest in the preferred way you like to sleep.
‘Love it, Joonie,’ you murmur.
***
You stare at the two lines on the pregnancy test you bought from the drugstore down the street.
You double check the box.
You add the stick to the other two tests you have peed on, on the bathroom counter.
Statistics aren’t your strong point, but you figure the odds have to be pretty damn low that they’re all faulty.
God. You are such a fuck up.
You hear the door of your café open and take a moment to slap some colour into your cheeks before heading downstairs.
‘Hi! Welcome, what can I – ‘
The words die on your lips as you realise who has just walked into your shop.
‘Hey,’ says Minho, former love of your life, current disgraced ex.
‘Hi,’ you reply. You set your lips in a straight line. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘You won’t answer my calls,’ he says.
Thankfully the café is empty.
‘Because I don’t want to talk to you,’ you reply. ‘What would we even have to talk about?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Minho says. ‘I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am.’
You just look at him. ‘And what do you expect me to say? You cheated on me with your assistant, Minho.’
‘I know. I don’t expect you to say anything. I just needed to apologise. You deserved, you deserve so much more than how it all worked out,’ Minho tells you. He looks at you, pleading. ‘Please can we just talk.’
You sigh. At least this saves you from thinking about the bombshell in the bathroom.
‘Sure. I’ve got some time. There’s usually a lull at this time anyway,’ you say.
You make him a coffee and sit with him at one of the tables.
‘So this is your place, huh?’ he says, quiet. ‘I can’t believe you left and actually did it.’
You look around. ‘Turns out my life wasn’t as together as I thought it was,’ you say.
He looks at you. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says.
You sigh. ‘It’s going to take me a while to forgive you, Minho. It was pretty devastating.’
Minho nods. ‘Are you well otherwise?’
You fight the sudden urge to burst into hysterical laughter. ‘Yeah. I’m good.’
What a day this is turning out to be.
‘Hey,’ you say. ‘Want to try some lemon tart?’
Minho laughs. ‘Sure. Why not.’
You cut him a slice, and he tells you about how he’s been since you left.
The conversation is unexpectedly cordial, you’ve never been one to hold a grudge. Plus he was a good boyfriend to you in the three years before he cheated.
One of the police officers, a rather shy man called Jungkook, comes in with an order for the station house, and you ask him how Jin is as you get his order ready.
As you bid Jungkook goodbye, you turn to see Minho standing frozen behind the counter.
Your first thought is concern at how pale he is, and then horror when you notice what he is holding.
A positive pregnancy test.
‘What the fuck!’ you say.
‘You tell me!’ Minho replies, looking just as frazzled as you feel.
The door opens, and you turn to see Namjoon walking in.
GOD you are SUCH a fuck up.
Namjoon’s eyes go from you to Minho.
You think you’re going to pass out. Instead you run upstairs to throw up.
***
When you get back downstairs, Namjoon and Minho are standing at opposite ends of the café, looking a little like they’re having a standoff in a western.
The pregnancy test Minho saw when he used your bathroom without telling you is nowhere in sight.
‘You’re pregnant,’ Minho says.
Namjoon’s only reaction is to raise his eyebrows at you.
‘Yes. I am,’ you say. ‘I found out today.’
‘Is the baby mine?’ Minho asks.
You shake your head. ‘No.’
Minho narrows his eyes at you. ‘You left barely two months ago.’
You think he’s going to accuse you of cheating on him, which is ironic really.
‘Are you sure it’s not mine? You wouldn’t lie about something like this,’ Minho says.
‘It’s not yours,’ you say.
‘But we – ‘
It comes back to you then – the night Minho turned up at your door the week before you moved to this town. He was drunk, almost as drunk as you were.
He sees the realisation in your eyes. ‘Fuck. You don’t – ‘
You look at Namjoon, and realise he is leaving.
‘Wait, Namjoon,’ you say, hurrying to stop him.
He turns to you then, and the look in his eyes stops you in your tracks.
You reach for his arm anyway, and he jerks back as though you’ve scalded him.
‘Joon,’ you plead.
He steps out the door. ‘We can talk later,’ he tells you. It would be reassuring if it weren’t for the look in his eyes.
You lean against the door, numb.
Minho looks at you. ‘Fuck,’ he says.
‘Fuck,’ you echo.
You sink down onto one of the chairs.
The rest of the day is a blur.
Minho, to his credit, helps you with some practical things. He organises a doctor’s appointment, closes your café, and makes you lunch.
At the end of the day he looks at you carefully.
‘Do you want me to stay?’ he asks.
You look at his familiar handsome face, and want to cry.
‘It’s not your baby, Minho, you don’t have to be responsible for me.’
His eyes are sad as he looks at you. ‘It’s funny isn’t it. I didn’t know what I wanted until I fucked it up.’
His voice is so gentle before you know it tears are spilling down your face.
Minho holds you as you cry, and as you kiss him goodbye you have never felt more alone.
Up in your room you call Namjoon. It goes straight to voicemail.
You look out your bedroom window. The lights are out in the hardware store.
You call Namjoon again.
It’s your fifth call before you realise he really doesn’t want to speak to you.
And so you stop calling.
***
You leave it a few days before venturing out to his store. You know he usually has lunch around one, and you bring him a coffee, heartbeat accelerating the closer you get to the entrance.
You step into the store, round to the office in the back where he used to have his lunch before he started having lunch at yours.
You knock on the door, and it’s pulled open by Mr Kim.
‘Oh hi,’ you say, taken aback. ‘I was looking for Namjoon.’
‘Oh he’s still not back from his fishing trip,’ Mr Kim says. He smiles at you kindly. ‘He’ll probably be back by the weekend.’
‘I made him – a coffee. Do you drink coffee?’ You offer him the cup, and he accepts graciously.
‘Mrs Kim and I are keen to stop by the café. Maybe during the holidays?’
You assure him they’re welcome anytime and walk back to your café.
***
It’s been a week since you last saw Namjoon. You are preparing things at six prior to opening up, and though normally you love the smell of pastry and coffee, today it’s making you slightly queasy.
You step out to take the rubbish out and stare at the rickety door, the lock of which you haven’t had the energy to fix since Namjoon left. For a moment your heart stops.
The word ‘Whore’ has been spray painted on the inside of the door.
Well, you wouldn’t necessarily argue with the label but it doesn’t fit with the classy atmosphere you’re trying to cultivate for your café. Luckily it’s around the back entrance.
A sound behind you makes you startle. You press a hand to your chest. Yoongi looks at the door, then at you.
‘Would you happen to know a guy who can sell you the stuff to fix a broken lock?’ you joke weakly.
Yoongi just frowns.
You and Yoongi sit looking out the front window of the café.
‘You should let Jin know,’ he says, quietly.
You are surprised. ‘Jin’s got actual important things to deal with. I’ll just fix the lock and paint over it.’
Yoongi considers this. ‘Has this happened before?’
You shake your head.
‘How’s Namjoon?’ you ask.
Yoongi looks out the window a moment before answering.
‘He’s ok. He’s processing.’
You sigh at the non-answer. You don’t want Yoongi to feel like he can’t come to your café because all you’ll do is ask him about Namjoon, and so you leave it at that.
The morning goes quickly, and it’s past lunch before there’s enough of a lull that you can tackle fixing the lock. You are trying to align the new latch perfectly when it slips out of your hand and what seem like a million tiny nails scatter on the uneven paving stones.
‘Shit,’ you swear.
Turns out, it’s bad DIY that summons Kim Namjoon.
He stares at the door, a muscle in his jaw ticking.
‘I mean, they’re not wrong,’ you say, lightly.
Namjoon just looks at you.
‘You’re not a whore,’ he tells you.
You feel like bursting into tears – which is excessive considering it’s hardly a compliment. It must be a hormonal thing.
Namjoon picks up the tiny nails and starts fixing the latch for you.
You sit on the step leading to the kitchen back door.
‘Can we talk?’ you ask.
For a moment you think he hasn’t heard you.
Namjoon turns to look at you then. ‘How are you feeling?’ he asks.
‘I’m ok,’ you say. ‘Feel a little sick sometimes. I tried calling you. I went to your store and saw your dad.’
Namjoon laughs, but there’s little humour in it. ‘My parents keep asking about you.’
‘I like them,’ you say quietly.
‘What am I supposed to tell them? That this girl I’ve been dating a couple months is pregnant and it might not be mine?’
Now you really do feel like crying.
‘I’m pretty sure it’s yours,’ you say,
‘Pretty sure.’ He mulls your words over as he secures the latch.
You are torn. The way he is being with you hurts. You don’t think you’ve done anything to warrant it, apart from being too horny to slip a condom on him that first time you had sex. Part of you wants to give him back some of the attitude he’s giving you. The other part just wants to talk to him.
‘The week before I came here Minho came over drunk and I was drunk too. I woke up in bed with him, but I don’t think we fucked. Then I came here. I haven’t fucked anyone else.’
That’s your truth as you know it.
‘He seemed pretty convinced he might be the father,’ Namjoon says. His tone of voice is carefully neutral, but his words sting.
‘I was on the pill,’ you say, ‘the whole time we were together. I only stopped taking it after I found him in bed with his assistant.’
‘I don’t know what to think, Y/N,’ Namjoon says, and for the first time you hear pain in his voice. ‘We barely know each other.’
‘Yeah,’ you agree.
You stare at the ‘whore’ painted on the door as Namjoon steps past you to leave.