You're My Tomorrow | J.ww

you're my tomorrow | j.ww

At first, you didn't think anything of it. Jeon Wonwoo was just a customer. However, his daily visits to your bookstore café started to become the highlight of your days. The little conversations here and there made you happy. It's because of him that you always look forward to tomorrow.

☕️ Pairing: customer!Wonwoo x cafeOwner!Reader

☕️ Rating/Genres/AUs: PG; Fluff with a sprinkle of angst, slice of life; Strangers to lovers, cafe au, non!idol au

☕️ Warnings: Reader is smaller than Wonu, ultra soft boi and supportive wonu *swoons*... can't think of anything else but ofc lmk otherwise

☕️ Word Count: 5k

☕️ Author's Note: Thank you to @justsomekpopstuff for giving me this plot idea! I def got carried away and wrote way more than I thought I would lol. I hope you enjoy it! Everyone thank JJ for the storyline ✨ Also, thank you Jess (@the-boy-meets-evil) for beta'ing and giving me amazing suggestions for some edits! 💗

Happy holidays to all (if you celebrate)! Stay safe and have a nice time 💖

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

Monday

When the door chimes a little after eight at night, you know it’s him.

He strolls in, usual glasses perched on his nose and jacket layered with a few specks of snow. His hair isn’t styled, soft waves adorning his head. He looks like the average person who’s winding down from a long day at work. From the two and a half months you’ve known him, this is his usual state on Monday nights.

Wonwoo entered your cozy bookstore café nearly three months ago. His order rarely varies, and sometimes he orders a drink he could get anywhere else. Yet, for some reason, he always comes here.

And throughout those months, you’ve realized you always look forward to his presence.

“Busy evening?” he asks while stepping up to the counter.

You’re in the middle of packing a pastry for another customer and quickly hand off the bag to your coworker.

“More so than usual; it’s finals week,” you reply with a small smile.

Wonwoo glances around, nodding as he takes in the sight of many tables occupied by people with textbooks, laptops, and notes scattered around them.

“I don’t miss those days,” he chuckles.

“I don’t either,” you agree. “So, what can I get you today?”

Wonwoo peers up at the menu behind you. You wonder why he does so since he usually rotates between three drinks.

“A hot chocolate,” he replies.

“Oh?” You can’t hide your surprise.

He grins, tilting his head slightly. “Should I have ordered something else?”

“No!” you hastily say. “You can order whatever you want.”

He pulls out a bill that exceeds the cost of the order and slides it to your side of the counter.

“Just thought I’d try something new for the holidays,” he explains, then leaves to find a seat.

“Wait!” you call out, bill in your hand. “You paid too much!”

If Wonwoo can hear you, he pretends he doesn’t. He continues his journey and ends up in the corner next to a window by the bookshelves. He retrieves a book from his bag, opening it where his bookmark rests.

Your hand falls to the counter with a heavy sigh. You guess you’ll give him his change when you give him his order. Normally, you’d call customer’s names or numbers for pick-up. But Wonwoo is different.

Wonwoo’s one of the rare customers who gets his order hand-delivered.

After completing the transaction in the system and making his drink, you grab his change from the register and walk to his table.

“One hot chocolate,” you announce and set the cup down along with his change.

“I’ll take the drink,” he says and brings it closer, blatantly ignoring the cash next to it.

“Wonwoo,” you say.

“Yn,” he answers, eyes flickering up.

There’s a small smirk on his lips that makes your insides churn.

“You overpaid,” you simply state.

“So?”

You move his money closer. “So, take it back.”

Wonwoo slides the money back to you. “Consider it a tip.”

“You know we don’t take tips here,” you say, moving it again.

“You should. You all work hard.”

“People are already struggling as is. If they can find solace in a little place like this, that’s all that matters.”

Wonwoo rests his hands on top of yours, which is still on the money, and slides it back to you.

“Then consider it a holiday present. From me to you,” he smiles.

His hand feels warm on yours. Your eyes move down, but you wish you hadn’t.

His large hand nearly covers yours, making you feel small yet protected. You can tell from his build that he’s strong and fit. You wonder what it’d be like to get a hug from him.

“I—” you struggle to speak.

“It’d make me happy.”

You sigh, nodding hesitantly.

He slowly removes his hand. “Thank you.”

“N-No problem,” you say, gathering the change and pocketing it. “Enjoy your book and drink.”

“Thanks,” Wonwoo replies and picks up his book. He holds it up with one hand and uses the other to sip his hot chocolate.

You make your way back to the front, trying to ignore the lingering warmth on your hand and the feeling in your chest.

Tuesday

Wonwoo shows up at the same time but orders one of his usual drinks. It's a different book than yesterday and judging by the similar cover, it's probably the next one in the series.

Ever since Wonwoo “gifted” you money, you’ve been trying to think of something to get him. It’s a little tough considering you don’t actually know him. You know he works a duty-heavy job and that he lives nearby. You know he has a lot of friends despite him being so quiet. Although you’ve never seen Wonwoo and his friends in the same room, they often come with him to the café in duos or trios.

You also learned he’s an avid cat and gaming lover.

You were surprised about the latter.

“Is he also a student?” one of your new coworkers, Sebastian, asks thirty minutes after Wonwoo’s arrival.

You wipe off the cup in your hand and set it on the counter, calling the number associated with it.

“No, he graduated already,” you reply and watch him practice making a drink.

“You seem to know him. Are you two friends?” he wonders.

You lean against the counter. “I don’t think so. He’s just a regular here, so I’ve learned a few things here and there.”

“Ah,” he replies and hands you the finished drink.

You take the drink and start taking a sip to see how well he did.

“You should ask him out.”

You choke on the drink, eyes wide as you reach for a napkin to wipe your chin.

“T-That wouldn’t be appropriate,” you stammer.

He laughs and takes the drink from you. “He’s not working here, and it’s not like you’re paying for him to come by. I don’t see how it’s inappropriate.”

You sigh, knowing he has a point. It’s not that you’re not attracted to Wonwoo, but it feels almost out of line. Plus, you’re not sure if you like Wonwoo, or just like the thought of him. You haven’t been in a relationship in years and would be lying to say you don’t miss having a partner.

You miss being able to share life memories with someone.

Wonwoo’s handsome. He’s kind, funny, caring, and fit—not that that’s a big deciding factor, but it sure is a bonus. Though, do you just want someone with those attributes, or do you want him?

“Just think about it,” Sebastian suggests and greets a new customer.

Your eyes drop to your feet in thought.

Part of you worries you’d make it awkward if he says no. It’s not like you are friends, so you won’t be ruining a friendship, but you enjoy seeing his face every day. His simple presence is one of the highlights of your days.

Plus, you don’t even know if he has a partner already!

You groan, putting a hand over your forehead as you try to organize your thoughts.

“Bad night?” a familiar voice asks from over the counter.

You drop your hand to see who it is.

Wonwoo stands with his empty cup and saucer, book tucked under his arm.

“Ah, uh, not really,” you reply sheepishly. You can’t disclose the true reason for your state; you’ve never been the best liar either.

“Well, I hope whatever is troubling you passes soon,” he says and holds out his dirty dishes.

“You could’ve left them on the table,” you say, grabbing them from his grasp. Your fingers touch his, and it’s difficult not to feel like a silly teenager in the movies, especially with your current predicament.

“I know,” he smiles, “but I wanted to tell you bye, and you seem busy.”

You set the items in the sink before addressing him again. “Still… But thank you anyway.”

“The drink was great, as always.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he says, slowly stepping away from the counter.

You smile, nodding. “See you.”

His eyes linger on you before he turns and exits your café.

Wednesday

Wonwoo comes and goes as usual. It’s a busy night and you’re unable to speak to him much. It’s not the first time that has happened, so he doesn’t seem bothered by the lack of interaction. Regardless, you wish you could’ve spoken to him more.

That night was spent browsing the internet for the perfect gift for Wonwoo.

From gaming headsets to the top-rated books on Goodreads, you felt like you scoured every possible present for him. But none of them satisfied you.

It wasn’t until you came across bookmarks in your recommended section that you decided what to get him.

Maybe a bookmark was too boring, but you figured it was the safer option.

You spend over an hour searching for the right bookmark, but again, you come up short. They’re either too flowery, too plain, or too cliché.

In the end, you opt for making your own.

You find some DIY bookmark kits online and place an order. Trying not to second guess your decision, you call it a night—going to sleep as you brainstorm what to put on the item.

Thursday

“Do people actually read these books?” Wonwoo asks during your break, which you decided to spend with him.

Your gaze follows his to the wall lined with several bookshelves.

You chuckle, “Sometimes.”

“You said you got these books donated?” he asks, recalling an earlier conversation you had when he was a newcomer.

“Most of them,” you hum.

“Does your offer still stand?” he asks.

You turn to him with puzzlement.

He smiles. “You said I could take a book if I left one.”

“Oh,” you laugh out of embarrassment for forgetting. “Of course.”

Wonwoo nods and then stands up. He takes two steps to his right, then carefully plucks a book from a high shelf. He replaces the empty space with his own book.

Something about the simple act has your heartwarming. Or maybe it’s the way he’s so gentle with the books as if they’ll cry if moved too aggressively. You wonder if he’d touch you as carefully, if given the chance. Would you find comfort in his caresses the way you think the books would if they were personified?

Wonwoo sits in his seat again, perching his glasses higher after they slide down.

“Have you read this?” he asks, twisting the book so the cover faces you.

You analyze it for a moment, but the title doesn’t ring a bell.

Shaking your head, “Unfortunately not. I haven’t had the chance to read in a long while.”

“I guess running a business is time-consuming,” he teases lightly.

“How do you find the time? Didn’t you say your work is hard, too?” you ask.

He leans back in his seat, book resting in his lap.

“I make time,” he simply says. “I found it’s important to make time for things I care about.”

He’s staring at you in a way that makes you think there’s more to his words than he lets on.

“T-That’s a good habit, I suppose,” you say.

“When was the last time you did something for yourself, and not the café?” he questions.

Your brows furrow in deep thought. You thought the answer would come easily, but it doesn’t.

“I—I can’t remember,” you answer with your gaze down, a little dejected at the self-reflection.

Wonwoo sits up and leans toward you. He lowers himself until he can snag eye contact.

“Don’t be too harsh on yourself,” he reassures. “I know what it’s like to bury myself in my work.”

“You probably think I’m pathetic, huh?” you laugh awkwardly.

Wonwoo shakes his head.

“It’s good to be dedicated to something. Your efforts are clearly visible,” he gestures to your crowded café. “But at the same time, it’s also good to not burn yourself out.”

You nod in agreement. “I’ll try to be better.”

“Not for me though. For you,” he says.

You offer him a kind smile that he returns. “For me.”

Friday

Wonwoo doesn’t come at his usual time.

You finally finished his gift last night and are eager to show it to him. You try to suppress your excitement, but it’s difficult to calm your mix of emotions.

As you made it, you realized it was the first time doing something non-work related. Usually, you’d be researching new recipes, doing finances, or simply sleeping. Last night, however, you were doing something personal.

Wonwoo’s words from yesterday ring loudly in your ears.

It felt good to take a break from work.

It felt good to feel like an actual person and not some workaholic machine.

Some say people come into your life for a reason. Maybe you’d still be stuck in your cycle, if not for him.

You wish he were here. 

Wonwoo’s usually a punctual man, so being this late sends uneasy nerves coursing through you. But, the idea of him not showing up at all is even more worrisome. 

Perhaps he’s working overtime and will be here soon. He’s never missed a day.

Yet, as minutes turn into hours, you begin losing hope.

Excitement transitions into worry. This isn’t his typical behavior. You don’t have a way to contact him either.

Is he hurt? Does he need help? Did you say something wrong yesterday? Did he finally decide he doesn’t like your café anymore?

Perhaps you’re too caught up with giving him your gift that you’re overreacting. It could simply be a late, late night at work for him.

He’ll be here.

Even if he just grabs his drink to go, which he’s done in the past, he’ll be here.

The bell chimes as your last coworker leaves for the night.

Wonwoo’s present sat abandoned in your locker throughout your shift. There’s an odd discomfort in your chest as you stare at it now. 

You’re not sure if it originates from being unable to gift it and see Wonwoo’s reaction, or if it’s because he never showed up.

Probably a combination of both, but more so the latter.

It’s uncanny to not see Wonwoo every day.

You had never thought about how you’d feel if you didn’t see him constantly. He was just always there. Always so reliable that you didn’t feel the need to consider what if.

What if he stopped showing up? What if you never saw him again? What if he no longer was a constant in your life?

You swallow the lump forming in your throat.

It’s a harsh reality to know he’s not required to visit. He can leave any time he wants. He can stop visiting your bookstore café at any moment.

There’s a strange thought about you not being good enough for him. Though, you’re not sure what that has anything to do with his absence.

Why would it matter if you weren’t good enough for him? He didn’t come to the café for you.

Did he?

If it was you he wanted, couldn’t he ask you out? Perhaps not as a romantic date, but as friends?

He never has, so he must not want to know you beyond the café. Meaning, he doesn’t come to it solely for you.

But, what changed for him not to show up tonight?

Unsettled with your thoughts, you decide to distract yourself with the final tasks you have to do before you leave.

However, the ride home is filled with more endless thoughts about Wonwoo.

Saturday

You come to work with less bounce in your step than usual.

The world outside seems dimmer. It feels as if the skies are going to be consumed with clouds and rain is going to fall. However, a storm was not in the weather’s forecast.

“Are you getting sick?” Sebastian asks.

You force a smile onto your face for the customer in front of you, handing them their order before looking at your coworker.

“No, why?” you wonder.

“You don’t seem well. Did you not sleep well last night?”

You wish you had, but you tossed and turned constantly. You didn’t think Wonwoo’s absence would affect you so much, but your mind kept wandering to every possibility for his no-show. In the end, you just gave yourself a headache.

“No,” you sigh, “but don’t worry about me.”

You try to smile again, but you’re sure Sebastian can see through it.

“Want me to close up tonight?” he offers.

“Don’t you have a big essay due tomorrow?” you question, remembering how stressed he sounded a few days ago.

“Yeah, but—”

“I’ll be fine,” you insist.

Huffing, he nods and grabs the cup from your hand. “Then go rest for a bit while I finish these orders.”

You purse your lips, contemplating arguing. In the end, you relent, moving to the backroom’s couch and plopping down.

You’ve been scrolling through your phone for ten minutes when you hear a familiar voice.

“Is Yn not here today?”

“Oh, she’s not feeling well, so she’s taking a break. Is there something wrong with our service?” Sebastian answers politely.

You shove your phone in your pocket and head to the door. There’s a small window that you peep out of.

You catch a glimpse of Wonwoo’s frown before he speaks again.

“No, everything’s fine. Will you tell her I hope she feels better?” he asks.

Sebastian nods slowly. Although you can’t see his face, you can see the cogs turn in his head.

“Oh! Ooh! You’re that guy.”

Wonwoo looks confused.

“I’m sorry?” Wonwoo replies.

“The guy that always comes in—”

Not trusting Sebastian to keep his matchmaking attempts at bay, you push through the door.

“Wonwoo,” you greet, trying not to seem too eager that he's here today even though you are.

Wonwoo’s eyes drift past Sebastian to see you. Instantly, his mouth begins to lift.

“Hey, you,” he says lightly, sweetly. “I heard you’re not feeling well.”

“Ah, I’m fine. Seb’s just overreacting.”

Sebastian narrows his eyes at you in a glare.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he scolds.

“I’ve rested enough,” you shoo with a hand.

“Ten minutes isn’t long enou—”

“Seb, do you mind attending to the customers behind Wonwoo?” you interject.

Sebastian eyes you before grumbling under his breath—something about you being stubborn—then greets the next customer.

You move down the counter to an empty space.

“What can I get you?” you ask Wonwoo.

He shakes his head. “Actually, I just wanted to talk today, if that’s okay. I won’t be long.”

You want to say he can take as much time as he wants, but you hold back.

Concern creeps from the shadows around you.

Is he going to tell you he’s leaving forever? Does he not like your drinks anymore? Did he find somewhere better? Someone better?

“O-Oh, yeah, okay,” you mumble and maneuver around the counter.

You lead Wonwoo to his usual corner, next to the window and the bookshelves. It’s a little quieter here.

You both take a seat from across each other.

You fidget in your seat, nerves making you angsty.

“Are you sure you feel okay?” he asks.

“Just tired, nothing to be worried about,” you smile.

Something in your chest warms at knowing he cares about your well-being.

“Hm. Alright,” he replies a little skeptically.

“Is everything okay with you?” You try to change the subject. “You didn’t come in yesterday.”

Your voice trails off, not wanting to show how concerned you were about his absence. However, Wonwoo can sense it regardless.

He smiles, though the small lift at the corner of his mouth tells you he’s amused with your attempt to hide your worry.

“Did you miss me?” he wonders.

Your eyes widen a bit. “I—Well. I just noticed you didn’t come because you always come, you know?”

He nods with a subtle smirk still on his lips, yet it fades after a few seconds.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come,” he apologizes sincerely. “One of my friends was in the hospital.”

Your heart drops and guilt kicks in. It’s not that you didn’t consider the possibility, but you had been more focused on him not liking you or the café.

“Goodness, I’m sorry to hear that. Are they okay?” you ask, frowning.

“He had to get surgery, but he’s fine. Just a little grumpy and whiny,” he chuckles.

You feel better hearing his small laughter.

“That’s better than being in pain, I guess,” you reply.

“Yes,” he concurs. He waits for a beat then continues, “I wanted to ask you a question.”

You tilt your head. 

A question. That sounds better than some statement about not seeing you again.

“Okay,” you say.

“When we last spoke, it was about you not having enough time for stuff outside of work,” he begins.

You nod to show you’re following but don’t cut in.

“Well, there’s this small event tomorrow. It’s nothing fancy, just some walking around. I wanted to know if you’d like to go with me?”

Your heart races as he speaks. You’re stumped for words. It’s as if you’ve subconsciously been waiting for this, but now that the time has come, you’re too nervous to answer.

“You can decline,” Wonwoo assures.

Although you’re anxious about the idea of meeting outside of the café, you don’t want to miss the opportunity.

“N-No! I mean, no, I don’t want to decline. What time? Where?” you hurriedly say before he can take back his offer.

He grins and holds out a small piece of paper.

You take it, turning it over to see scribbled numbers. You guess it’s his phone number.

“I can pick you up after work. You close early tomorrow, right?” he asks.

You nod, trying to hide your smile at him remembering your café hours. Though, since he visits frequently, you guess it shouldn’t be that surprising.

“Dress warm, okay?” he adds.

“Okay.”

Wonwoo stands from his seat, and you follow.

“Get some more rest tonight, Yn,” he says softly.

“Y-Yeah. I will,” you reply.

Although you’re no longer fretting over reasons for his no-show yesterday, you’ll be worrying about tomorrow now. Still, you’ll try to sleep—maybe even drink some tea or warm milk. You’ll try for him.

Sunday

Wonwoo comes to the café a few minutes before you close. He’s dressed in a fluffy hoodie layered with a light brown trench coat. He looks so…soft and warm.

Before you depart, you make a drink for each of you. He tries to pay but you profusely veto his offer.

The ride to the event is quiet except for the random music being played from his stereo. You’re unsure how long the ride is, but you don’t care. Even if you’re not speaking, it’s nice being with him in a new environment. It’s nice to see a different side of Wonwoo. And part of you hopes he likes seeing a different side of you too.

The event is free, but since donations are strongly encouraged, you and Wonwoo slip a few bills into the plastic reindeer before stepping onto the lit-up walkway.

People of all ages are enjoying the event. The walkway is wide enough to accommodate a couple of people at a time, but it’s still crowded. It forces you and Wonwoo to bump shoulders several times, and each time, you both apologize.

You notice a few minutes into the walk that he seems tenser than usual. You’re not sure of the reason, and he doesn’t seem inclined to disclose the answer.

You try to distract him by pointing out different features—from big blown-up Santas to mechanical reindeer moving up and down. However, it doesn’t seem too effective.

Wonwoo’s steps eventually begin to slow. He never comes to a complete stop, but with his slow speed, a lot of people pass by. Eventually, there’s a gap in the crowd and his body relaxes.

He must not be a fan of crowds.

“Can we sit for a bit?” you ask, not really needing to rest but there are picnic tables with fake candles on them nearby that are less crowded.

“Sure,” he says.

You guide him to an empty table and sit across from each other.

“Thank you for taking me here,” you smile while glancing around. “It’s so pretty.”

The area is filled with multitudes of holiday decor. There are so many lights strung that you don’t need streetlamps to see. It’s rather magical to see it all. It’s a shame you can’t see this all year round. But then again, it might lose its effect if you see it constantly.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replies.

His eyes drop to your hands clasped on the table. There’s a slight shiver in them.

Suddenly, his hands are covering yours—warmth instantly shooting up your arms from his touch. He says nothing as he rubs his thumbs along your cool skin.

You want to say something; however, it doesn’t feel like you have to, so you just stare at him, a small smile on your face while you bask in the warmth he’s providing.

“How does it feel?” he questions after a few minutes.

You open your mouth to say “good” and to thank him for taking away your coldness, but before you can, he speaks again.

“Getting out, I mean. How does it feel to get out of the café?”

“Oh.” Your face heats rapidly. Thank goodness for your slow reaction. “It’s refreshing.”

Wonwoo hums, nodding.

“Should we walk around again, or should we go? I don’t want you catching a cold,” he says.

“I’d like to see more if that’s okay,” you admit.

“It’s more than okay,” he reassures.

He starts to stand, but you grip his hands to stop him. He stares down at you bemused.

“I have something for you,” you explain.

He sits back down, hands leaving yours when you pull away to retrieve something from your bag.

It’s a small black box with a purple bow on it, albeit the decor is a little squished from being confined to your small bag.

“What’s this?” he asks and carefully brings the box nearby.

“Since you gave me a gift this week,” you say, referring to his tip on Monday, “I got you one as well.”

“You didn’t—”

“Need to? I know. But, I wanted to. And I worked hard on it, so accept it, please?” you say lightly so as to not sound too serious. 

He smiles and nods, lifting the lid.

Inside is the bookmark you made him. On the bookmark’s center is a cat with a game controller. It’s simple, but that’s the best you could do with your lack of drawing skills. Attached to the bookmark is a purple tassel.

“You made this?” Wonwoo asks in amazement.

“I’ll only admit to that if you like it,” you say out of nervousness.

Wonwoo laughs and glances at you. “I like it a lot.”

“Then yes, I made it.”

His gaze shifts to the item again, examining it closely for a bit. Then, he sets it back carefully in the box and puts it in his pocket.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly.

“Of course,” you smile.

You and Wonwoo walk around for twenty more minutes before you call it a night. Throughout the entire walk, he held your hand in his free pocket. The warmth from his body combined with his sheltered pocket made your hand clammy. You felt embarrassed at the fact, but Wonwoo refused to release his hold. Truthfully, you didn’t want to let go, but you also didn’t want him to be disgusted at the feeling.

Wonwoo drove you back to your café where your car was.

You tried to demand he stay in your car since he parked next to yours, but he still climbed out.

You stare at his eyes which are framed by his glasses; his cheeks are slightly rosy from the temperature. His dark hair dances softly in the wind. He looks so handsome.

Wonwoo leans forward and connects his lips ever so softly against your cheek. You have the urge to turn your face and capture his lips with yours, but you don’t.

There’s something romantic about going slow.

Wonwoo pulls back with a kind smile.

“You look beautiful tonight, Yn,” he whispers, breath ghosting your face.

You can’t stop the smile forming on your face even if you tried.

“And you look handsome,” you reply.

Wonwoo mirrors your grin.

“Get home safely, alright?” he instructs.

You nod. “You too.”

You unlock your car and climb inside.

Wonwoo lingers outside, watching with his hands in his pockets.

After starting your car and rolling down your window, you lean out and prop your head on your arm that’s resting on the edge.

He bends slightly to see you better, a small grin on his mouth. His face isn’t too close, but it’s closer than it should be for an average person. But, Wonwoo isn’t average.

He’s quiet for a while, and you take the time to observe his features again. Your heart is thumping loudly in your ears. The desire to kiss him resurfaces.

Maybe you’re starting to like Wonwoo. Not just because he’s attractive, kind, funny, and caring, but because he’s Wonwoo.

Wonwoo, who’s been a frequent customer at your café for months.

Wonwoo, who’s always been supportive and kind.

Wonwoo, who’s slowly capturing your heart.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asks with a smile still on his face.

“Yeah,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Because of Wonwoo, you’re always looking forward to the next day.

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j.yunho {espresso for two?}

cafe love m.list || k.hongjoong || p.seonghwa || j.yunho || k.yeosang || c.san || s.mingi || j.wooyoung || c.jongho

Jeong Yunho.

Just the name sent a fresh wave of nausea crashing over you. Two weeks. Two measly weeks since he'd so casually declared, "We need some space," his voice as smooth and forgettable as the lukewarm latte he always ordered.

Space? What for?

It wasn't supposed to end this way. You and Yunho have been together for three years, a whirlwind romance that blossomed during your college days. He is your everything: the man who is charming, funny, with a smile that could melt glaciers. Spent hours lost in conversation, future plans whispered over steaming mugs of chamomile tea at your apartment after a long day of class or even workloads, the very one you now toiled in, perpetually surrounded by the bittersweet aroma of love and heartbreak.

The cracks started appearing subtly. Late-night texts unanswered, cancelled dates for "work emergencies," a growing distance that chilled you to the bone. You tried, you did— clinging to the remnants of what you both had, showering him with affection that felt increasingly one-sided. Then came the bombshell – a text, impersonal and cold, informing you of his "need for space."

Your world had tilted on its axis. The vibrant cafe, once a haven of shared laughter and stolen glances, now felt suffocating. Your co-workers, bless their oblivious souls, tried their best. Your senior head took notice of your distant and pale face–offering you to take a quick break which you deny saying that you just haven’t retouched yet after the morning rush, Wooyoung the ever-optimistic barista, bombarded you with motivational quotes. And Seonghwa, the stoic manager, offered gruff words of support (his way of showing he cared). But nothing could mend the gaping hole in your chest.

A particularly demanding customer snapped you out of your reverie. Her shrill voice, laced with entitlement, taking a deep breath, you plastered on a customer service smile, channelling your internal turmoil into forced cheer. Maybe, just maybe, a day spent slinging coffee and feigning happiness would numb the ache a little.

But as you steamed milk softly, the bell above the cafe door chimed, a jarring note in the morning lull. Your gaze flicked up, drawn by a sudden prickle of unease. There, by the counter, stood Jeong Yunho. His usual carefree demeanour was replaced by a shadowed weariness. Your breath hitched, a thousand unspoken words churning in your stomach.

He hadn't changed much. The same tousled hair, the same charming smile – a smile that now felt like a stranger's. He scanned the menu, a flicker of surprise crossing his features when your eyes met. Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.

"I—," he finally said, his voice strained. "Hi …"

Your heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs. A million questions bubbled up, but professionalism reigned supreme. You plastered on a neutral smile, "Did you find anything you like, sir?" You managed, your voice surprisingly steady. Adam's apple bob before a small slick smirk creeps on the corner of his lips, “Yeah … you.”You rose an eyebrow, finally showing your emotions that went from ‘Fuck! my ex is here!’ to ‘Let me punch him, the audacity!’. He saw your reaction, his eyes darted on the menu before crawling his throat, “J-Just espresso ..” “Take out or dine in?” “Dine .. in”

You look down to punch his order, “Do you want to add anything, sir?” He shakes his head but his lips move again, stuttering, “M-Make it two .. please.”

You breathe sharply before giving him the receipt after he pays for the two espresso, telling him to sit for a while. He nodded before mumbling a ‘thank you’. As you pulled the shot, stolen glances confirmed the changes you sensed. Dark circles marred Yunho's eyes, etching lines of fatigue onto his previously youthful face. The weight of the world seemed to press down on his broad shoulders. A pang of sympathy warred with the anger still simmering within you.Just why? Where did it all go wrong?

When your barista announces Yunho’s name, you watch in the corner of your eye as he places himself on the window side of the cafe with the two espresso in his hand. As you punch the order of the customer in front of you, a tap on the shoulder interrupts your work, you look over to see Seonghwa with an anticipated look over his usual stoic look, “Yes manager-nim?”He breathes sharply, eyes flicking towards somewhere before looking back at you, “You can take a break … someone needs to see you and let them explain themself.”

You immediately knew who he was talking about. You know Yunho never goes unprepared and certainly, he comes with a fixed mindset.

You sigh, removing your apron as Seonghwa rubs your back soothingly before he places the apron on him to take care of your position. You look at the side to see your senior head, giving you an encouraging smile along with the others cheering on you. You felt grateful as they have been supportive of your relationship with Yunho for a short while of announcing about your boyfriend with minimal information about him yet they never ask you questions about it until you do so.You approached his table, sat down opposite of him. He had an awkward look on his face, “Yunho please get to the point, rush hour will be an hour—”

“I’m sorry.” Those simple words were so easy to say yet the words he wanted to say were stuck in his throat. The air hung heavy with unspoken words. Yunho's apology, though sincere, seemed like the tip of a much larger iceberg. The man across the table fidgeted, hesitant to dismiss an apology so abruptly. The tension crackled between them, amplified by the approaching rush hour Yunho himself had mentioned.

"My excuse won’t do justice to the pain you went through and my sorry can not heal all those pain .The pain you feel is a constant reminder of my failings. I have doubted myself so much that I have neglected you and become selfish for my own emotions and at the end, I have regret all of those things, I have regret ever hurting you, rejecting your small offerings or even your love— I am sorry.” Yunho spoke with sincerity in every word he said, his hands were clinging on the cup of his espresso—controlling himself to not take your hands—while his eyes were glued to you the whole time.

You were slightly taken back, his words were piercing through your head. Your heart soars to the extent that, maybe just maybe, he did regret what he had done. You have known Yunho for as long as you both were before in the stage of dating, you have seen him grow to be a man and you have seen how he came to learn from who he was and what he is today.

Yet there goes the mind from letting you decide from your emotions. Your thoughts run through the painful days you have cried, doubted or even questioned your worth— you were also afraid to go on your days without thinking of your looks that had you wearing a mask to cover yourself— you were a complete and shattered person inside your apartment. The battle between your head and your heart, it is hard to listen.

Yunho, being the observant he is, took notice of your shaking eyes and contemplated heart. He knows what’s going through your head, every thought and he cannot blame you. Even he would be in a complicated mess if your ex suddenly came into your life after months of disappearing after a text so shitty.

“You do not have to talk or anything, I just came by to explain and maybe … have a closure before I go.” Your eyes that were fixed on the table slowly, trails towards his glassy eyes.

“Cl-Closure? Yunho what–” Why does he need closure? You were confused, your heart was expecting something more from what he had mentioned even though your mind had concluded that he will ask for a second chance but this? A closure? That is something you weren least expecting!

Yunho’s head nodded, a small smile on his lips, “Yeah– I have .. thought about it that you deserve an apology… “ He looks around the small cafe, eyes twinkling in admiration before his eyes settle back to you. The softness never left and it made your heart hurt, “I may have not talked to you for weeks but I have come across you a few times and I have seen you grow day by day. You slowly regain back that smile, your contagious laugh and your glow. You deserve so much more than the pain I cause you.” Both of your eyes were turning glossy, his nose was clogging making his voice slightly muffled yet no tears were evident.

Finally, he lets go of the cup and reaches for your hand which you let him hold on to. He squeezes them like he used to, “And you deserve those, you deserve a better chapter … without me.”

There, the water in your eyes had finally streamed down your cheeks when he gave you the smile that you have adored. A smile that reassures you that things will be okay, eventually. You’re gonna be okay and that he will be there to support you.

“Yu-Yunho …” Yunho shakes his head, giving your hand a final squeeze before letting them go. You jerk slightly, wanting to hold him again, “I’m off to New York with my mom. Seoul will always hold a piece of my heart, but New York has pushed me in ways I never imagined. I've grown here, found a strength and independence I never knew I had. As much as it pains me, returning feels like something I have wanted. Our paths have diverged, and forcing them together wouldn't be fair to either of us.”

Yunho reaches over, wiping a stray tear, you shamelessly lean into his touch. Yunho’s breath hitches, itching to hold you back in his arms but he has to do it, he has made up his mind that things have reason to happen, “Maybe someday, our paths will realign. Until then, I'll cherish the memories we made.” He stood up, giving you the other cup of espresso while the other tight in his hand.

He looks at you one last time before leaving the cafe. As the door chime hits close, your body shakes as silent sobs echo the, now deserted cafe. The tears blinded yet love never does it, it wounded you to make you wake up in reality that things were over and the questions of him leaving you were answered.

You look at the cup of espresso in front of you, and more tears fall on your cheeks as you read the letters, ‘Espresso for two?’ the inscription seemed to scream, each word a fresh tear on your heart.

You traced the lettering with a trembling finger, the memory flooding back. It was his idea, a silly spur-of-the-moment purchase during a weekend, he had to pull you out from your shift and drag you out to have the rest of the day with him. You'd laughed, teasing him about his overenthusiasm for a simple coffee cup. "What if you never have someone to share it with?" you'd joke, never truly believing it.

He'd squeezed your hand, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Then it'll be a reminder of me sharing this espresso with you so i could espresso my love for you," he'd promised, his voice laced with a confidence you envied now. You laugh at his joke, making him chuckle as your enthusiastic laugh echoes down the street.

A sob escaped your lips, the sound harsh in the sudden silence of the cafe— despite your co-workers glancing at you once in a while to check up on you. The espresso remained untouched, a cold, bitter echo of a love that had turned as quickly as burnt milk. But even through the fog of grief, a flicker of defiance sparked. Wiping your tears, you straightened your spine. Maybe it wasn't meant for two today, but that didn't mean it couldn't be filled someday.

You finish the cup in a go, eyebrow furrowed. You have made up your mind a little to late, but there are things were meant on a perfect time.

You look outside by the cafe windows, "I'll share the espresso with you again."

part 2? another ending? idk 😭😅

my future in your eyes

mingyu still holds onto you, even after all this time.

๑彡 kim mingyu x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 divorced!au/ex-husband!au, post-break up!au, exes-to-lovers!au — fluff

๑彡 paragraph format — 1.1K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 title is taken from zack tabudlo’s as you are.

๑彡 i’m lowk proud of this ngl bc— it’s fluff, but it took me relatively quick to finish?? usually i get stuck for weeks if the wip’s fluff ><

Kim Mingyu is a man of confidence.

Not that he uses his confidence to swindle strangers, as the dictionary suggests the title means. Rather, he exudes confidence — regardless of what he does.

There is always an air confidence around him. He can be in clothes that don’t fit the event’s theme and he’ll still seem perfectly dressed. He can be barely conversant in another language and he’ll still sound like he knows what he’s saying. He can just be standing there, doing nothing, and he’ll still appear like he’s doing something right.

Some people mistake his confidence for arrogance. Most find it admirable. But, in truth, Mingyu hardly cares.

Especially if his so-called confidence vanishes whenever you are in the vicinity and within his line of sight. Just like now.

He sees you in a table with Seokmin. Your back is towards him but he recognizes you, anyway. Despite the distance, he has no problem witnessing how animatedly you talk with your common friend.

It’s almost like he is back in college: you and Seokmin in one row, him and Minghao a few rows back. He can almost hear Minghao state matter-of-factly, "You’re staring," like he often does back then.

Really, all that’s different is Minghao’s currently preoccupied being the groom to comment on his staring. (There are definitely more things that are different now, but he doesn’t want to even begin thinking about them.)

Seokmin catches his stare. Not soon after, specifically before Mingyu can even look away, he sees him leave the table. Seokmin throws him a familiar meaningful look before disappearing into the dance floor.

Truth be told, Mingyu’s confidence comes naturally. It isn’t something that he purposely channels. It’s just always there . . . unless you are involved. Then, suddenly, he has to painstakingly gather the confidence to be near you.

"Is this seat taken?" He tries his hardest to mask his awestruck look with one of kind politeness as he waits your response.

He almost forgot how to breathe when your eyes lock into his. "You may sit if you wish," you offer him a small, polite smile. "I don’t think he’ll be back anytime soon."

"Thanks." He effortlessly returns your gesture before situating himself on the chair your common friend abandoned. "How are you enjoying the party?"

"Really well, actually. I didn’t expect to recognize a lot of people from college." Your eyes don’t leave his as you answer. He tries not to stare back too intently, to look within your eyes to see something . . . anything. "And you?"

Mingyu waits for a beat, gathering enough confidence to say what he wants to. "Better now that you’re here." With me.

He lets out a barely audible embarrassed laugh. He has half a mind to take it back, but quickly changes his mind when he sees you biting your lower lip — an obvious attempt to stop yourself from laughing.

A ghost of a smile plays on his lips. There’s pride in knowing he’s still able to make you laugh, despite it being your first meeting in literal years.

You look down in a presumable attempt to calm yourself down. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you, though, as he refuses to lose you from his sight. As such, he immediately notices the sudden shift in your expression.

"You’re still wearing it." Mingyu follows your line of sight — and ends up looking at the source of your comment. His hand on the table, specifically the band of gold adorning his ring finger. "Our ring."

Our wedding ring.

You and Mingyu married soon after graduating from college. It had been a blissful marriage, one that filled a home with nothing but love and support.

Your divorce was on the basis of irreconcilable differences. It was a mutual decision, for the interest of your career paths diverging too far. There was never a bad blood.

"Ye— yeah." Mingyu stutters involuntarily. He clears his throat before continuing, "It’s a great conversational piece."

Although the divorce has been finalized years ago, Mingyu still plays the faithful and loving husband role in front of strangers. He uses the ring on his finger to his advantage: may that be to wordlessly signal that he’s already taken or to gain the favor of a potential sponsor.

Likewise, even if he knows the ring might be a disadvantage, he refuses to take it off — nor to purposely hide it from sight. The same way he never tells a stranger that he is no longer tied to someone else.

"Does it work?" You ask in wonder.

"We are conversing now, aren’t we?"

You chuckle, "Touché."

Mingyu wants to tell you that he hasn’t taken the ring off since you slipped it on his finger during your wedding. Not even after your divorce has been finalized all those years ago.

He wants to tell you his ring finger is thinner near his palm because of his adamant refusal to take his wedding ring off once in a while. Not willing to separate from the only physical reminder of your marriage, not even for a second.

He wants to tell you the ring is more than a conversational piece. He wants to tell you it’s his lifeline, something he can’t bear to lose. But he doesn’t.

Instead, Mingyu uses all the confidence he has gathered to ask you a simple question. "Dance with me?"

He offers you the hand adorned by his wedding ring. He tries not to show the uncertainty he feels by masking it behind a smile.

He almost lets out a relieved sigh when you place your hand on top of his. But he stops breathing momentarily when he catches sight of the sole jewelry adorning your hand.

"You’re still wearing it," Mingyu echoes your comment breathlessly. "Our ring."

He snaps his eyes back to your face, just in time to witness your smile widen. "Yeah," you say. "It’s a great talisman to ward off potential suitors."

He leads you to the dance floor, silently marveling at how your hand still fits perfectly with his. "Does it work?"

"It’s very effective," you assure him. "Although I don’t think it works well against ex-husbands."

Another slow song starts playing right when you reach the dance floor. You and Mingyu unconsciously claim your respective hand placements during your first dance — and for any waltz you danced after.

Then, suddenly, it’s like you traveled back in time.

Mingyu pulls you closer, a ghost of a smirk is at the edge of his lips. "I think it works well attracting ex-husbands."

One Hit Wonder // Bob Floyd

Summary: Robert Floyd was a pacifist, he didn’t enjoy confrontation or anything that resembled an argument. He preferred to use logical responses and persuasive reasoning to identify situations that might not work well in his favour otherwise.

Warnings: Harassment. Mentions of pregnancy. Violence resulting in death. Bob Floyd x F!reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Author Note: Day Fifteen of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Self Defense. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Robert Floyd was a pacifist, he didn’t enjoy confrontation or anything that resembled an argument. He preferred to use logical responses and persuasive reasoning to identify situations that might not work well in his favour otherwise. 

He wasn’t the most popular kid in high school. Sure he had his buddies, the odd teacher who’d check in on him from time to time to see how he was doing and the occasional overzealous cheerleader who’d try to wear his glasses on a dare. But the ever looming threat that was the majority of the school football and lacrosse teams still managed to shine through all Bob's weak safety nets. 

Knowing he didn’t have the constitution, the strength or the ability to protect himself against six or seven football players at any given time, Bob used his critical thinking skills and offered free tutoring for anyone who promised not to beat him up behind the quad on his way out. 

It worked in high school and all throughout university, it never seemed to phase him all that much during the Naval Academy though because everyone was there for the same reason. Every person on base had a shared interest. It didn't matter what you were eventually going to do—everyone was there for one special goal. To pass basic. So, for a while—Robert Floyd got to let his guard down. He got to just enjoy existing instead of trying to safeguard his existence.

“Is there a reason that you’re staring at me?” Bob didn't realise he’d spaced out until your voice was pulling him back from a perfectly designed world where he, of all people, got the pretty girl standing just a few metres away from him minding her own business. You were standing across the kitchen of his buddies flat. He’d just moved in and Bob was spending the weekend catching up before he was being stationed out to lemoore. 

In Bob's mind you were beautiful. He’d never seen such a beautiful woman before. And he really didn't mean to stare, but your laugh was like a siren call, calling him over to fall in love over and over and over again with the beautiful woman standing across the kitchen. 

“Do I have something on my face or is my top just a little too revealing and you have a perfect shot at my chest?” You were only being sarcastic, but it wouldn’t surprise you if the man with baby blue eyes agreed with your statement. 

But he didn’t, which was even more surprising. 

“Oh no–” Bob's eyes widened at your accusation, he felt like he couldn't breathe as he took a step backwards in a non threatening manner. “I just thought you had really nice–” Before Bob could finish his sentence, you were jumping in to finish it. 

“Tits?” 

“Eyes–” Bob corrected you immediately. He didn’t want you believing he was some sort of pervert before he even had the chance to properly introduce himself. “I think you have really nice eyes.” You had to smile to yourself a little at the sight of the obviously flustered man who stood across the small kitchen from you. He seemed harmless enough. “I’m Bob—“

“Y/n—“ It’s how the two of you met, in that dingy little apartment in that kitchen that couldn’t have fit more than three people in it at any one time. But Bob knew that you were going to be his wife someday—he didn’t know exactly how he was going to pull that trigger or how in the world he was going to get you to fall in love with him, but he knew. 

And you weren’t sure what exactly it was, but the way Bob made you feel effortlessly beautiful and naturally loved had you dropping to your knees to cup his flushed cheeks when he nervously asked you to marry him right after he got back from a mission he swore could have been his last. 

“You and the little guy are all I need.” Bob whispered against your lips when you kissed him so passionately it nearly knocked him off balance. “I love you so much, just wanna be yours till my dying days.” 

“Robert Floyd, you are my best friend, I love you so so much!” 

The wedding was set to be a pretty simple ceremony in a registry office. You didn’t want the fuss that came with a full disclosure wedding. It was supposed to be just you and Bob and your witness. Everything would have been perfect, simple and efficient. 

But then your soon to be husband was given his new posting, and that saw you and Bob packing up your lives in Lemoore to settle in North Island, where a whole new can of worms opened for the two of you. 

“You’re getting married!?” You knew it was Phoenix, Bob always spoke so highly of her. “Holy Cannoli I hope you don’t plan on going swimming with that thing on.” She teased as she took you into a warm embrace. “You’ll sink to the bottom.” 

“I’d been saving since we met.” Bob interjected as Phoenix stepped back and took in the sight of you. “We’re expecting in January, little guys coming around Y/n’s birthday.” 

“Bob—“ Phoenix cooed as you reached out to place her hand on your stomach, Natasha Trace was the first of the dagger’s to formally be introduced to you. “You never said anything.” The bird strike hit all the more harder now. Phoenix knew she carried precious cargo but now the stakes were even higher. Bob had a fiancée and a baby boy on the way. “Why didn’t you tell us, tell me?” 

“I just wanted to protect what was most important to me.” Bob answered quickly. He always kept you close to his heart, always. “Y/n here, she’s my best friend, always has been since she swore I was being a creeper.” You had to chuckle at the memory of the night the two of you first met. “But you guys, Fanboy, Rooster, Packback, Coyote—even Hangman but don’t go saying that out loud, are my family now too—and I want my family to know who’s the most important person to me.” Bob paused for a moment but both you and Phoenix knew what he was about to say before he said it. “Just in case something happens to me, you guys are gonna be her family too.” 

“We’ve got her Bob.” Phoenix cooed as she brought you in for a gentle hug once more. “It’s so  nice to meet you.” 

You had to take a second to really sink in the moment. These were the people who swore every day to protect your fiancé. These were the people he truly considered family. These were his people and in turn they were yours. And it truly sunk in as a rowdy group of men burst through the Hard Deck front doors. These were Bob's people. 

“I’m so happy to meet the woman who keeps my best friend coming home every night.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Well well well–” It was the Texan tone that gave the cock sure aviator away as he came up beside you. “I gotta say, you sure look mighty fine this evening, Mrs Floyd.” Jake cooed as he stood beside you, watching as you ran a gentle hand across your growing baby bump. 

“Thanks Hangman.” You chuckled softly as you watched your soon to be husband over at the bar with Rooster and Fanboy. He looked so happy, so full of life and excitement. “I feel like a blimp but I appreciate the compliment.” It had only been about a month or so since you had settled into your new surroundings. You and Bob would have loved to have been married by now, but the Daggers had other ideas when you had dropped the bomb on them that you were going to do an elopement style ceremony at a registry office. No fuss, no extra expenses, just the two of you and all the love you could possibly give one another. 

But here you were, at your joint Bach party that Hangman and Rooster had every so kindly set up for the long weekend. How in the hell they had managed to get the entire dagger squad the weekend off was beyond you–but nevertheless you were thankful for the experience. Even if you were pregnant in Vegas with a bunch of Naval Aviators running a muck in the casino. 

“How’s the baby on board going?” Jake asked as he hooked his arm with yours and walked with you over to the bar. 

“He feels like some fries and a virgin mango magatia if you're really wondering.” You smirked as Jake pulled out his wallet from the pocket of his jeans. He should have seen that one coming. “

“Coming right up.” Jake made sure you were situated up on the stool beside your soon to be husband before he left you to fetch your food. Bob couldn't take his eyes off you whenever you were in his proximity. He couldn't breathe at the sight of you in that bodycon dress. The white one that screamed bride to be. But the sash slung across your shoulder did that too, as did his own. Only his said Groom and wasn't as pretty on him as it was on you. 

“Hangman getting you some food baby?” Bob cooed as he kissed your cheek. 

“Yep, and my feet are killing me.” You sighed as you leaned in to rest your head on Bob's shoulder. “But I'm so glad we’re doing this, getting this opportunity.” 

“They're good people aren't they?” Bob didn't drink, but he had been nursing a rum and coke for about half an hour now. The ice had mentled and watered it down, which made it easier for him to sip on. “Reckon spuds gonna like them?” 

“Yeah, they are.” You agreed kindly as you watched Rooster and Fanboy carry on over tequila shots. “They needed this more than us, this weekend–but they did it for us.” Bob nodded as he let his hand fall to your stomach. “And yeah–Spuds gonna love them, but not as much as he’s gonna love his dad.” 

“You know husband and father were two things I thought I'd never be.” Bob admitted to you quietly as he kissed your hair on top of your head as you sat with him up at the bar, surrounded by drunk idiots ready to waste their money. “So thankyou for giving me the chance to become both.” You simply answered by picking your head up off Bob's shoulder and kissing him softly. He was the life of your life, your best friend, your life partner and father of your child. “I love you, my bride to be.” 

Robert Floyd was a pacifist, he didn’t enjoy confrontation or anything that resembled an argument. He preferred to use logical responses and persuasive reasoning to identify situations that might not work well in his favour otherwise. So as you smiled up at him and brushed his hair behind his ear, Bob was very in tune with the man off to the left of the bar who had been watching you ever since Jake had helped you waddle over. 

“You’re such a dork, I love you.” Your voice echoed around in Bob’s head as the hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention. His guy was practically undressing you with his eyes. But once again, Bob Floyd was a pacifist. So until it became a problem to worry about? There was no problem to worry about. 

“I love you more.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“PAYBACK!” You sat at the blackjack table with wide eyes watching as the daggers cashed in their chips. “You can't be serious, that's all your money!” Bob's hand gripped at your thigh beside you, he wasn't paying with much but he had a few chips to play. 

“Yeah and I could double it, mama.” The term of endearment was something the entire squad used. You loved it, it made you feel all warm and fuzzy and accepted by your Fiance’s friends. “And if I double it I'm giving it to you and Bob for the honeymoon you two are insistent on not having.”  

“We’re gonna have a newborn man, it's not the time.” Bob sighed, he’d tried to explain it a few times before now that the timing of it all wasn't right. The two of you would save for a rainy day and once your son was a little bigger, the three of you would go on a family holiday. “Keep your money.” 

“Yeah, it's really not necessary Payback, honest.” You smiled as you got up from your seat at the black blackjack table. “I'm gonna go pee, I’ll be right back, Bob honey will you text me if you guys move?” Bob was going to ask if you wanted him to come with you, he would have asked, but he knew what the answer would be. You were fiercely independent, and even a quick trip to the bathroom alone made you feel like you could take on the world. Especially now with a whole human growing inside of you. So, Bob nodded and agreed, he didn't bother to ask. 

“Course love.” 

Bob watched as you waddled away, the love of his life, his best friend, the mother of his unborn child. You were his entire world and there wasn't a single thing on this planet he wouldn't do for you. 

“Are you excited man?” Payback asked as he counted his chips. “You're gonna be a dad, how wild is that?” 

“I'm nervous, that's for sure.” Bob sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. “But yeah–I’m excited, I'm really excited and I'm ready to be there for whatever those two ever need ever.” 

“She's one beautiful woman man i'll give you that.” Payback added. “You’re good for one another, you bring out the best in each other.” Bob knew all this already, The two of you had been together for five beautiful years. And in those five years there had been many men that had tried to take you away from him. But you always chose Bob and that gave him comfort and reassurance in his place by your side. It was your world after all and he was just happy to live in it. And as Bob caught the sight of the same man approaching you as you walked away from the blackjack table that had been lingering around you by the bar, he stood up to head after you. 

“She thought I was staring at her boobs the first night we met.” Bob added as he chuckled at the memory. It was his favourite, it was hard to beat the first time he ever laid eyes on his soon to be wife. 

“Were you?” Payback asked curiously as the dealer got ready to start the next game.” Staring at her tits?” Bob thought about it for a moment before he nodded. 

“Yeah, a little.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~

These days it was getting harder and harder to waddle around by yourself, but you enjoyed the independence of it all. You hadn’t even made it to the bathrooms before a man was approaching you on your way. You tried to avoid his eye line but even when you averted his gaze he was still honed in on you. 

“I couldn't help but to notice the sash.” He paused at your side and turned on his heels, walking with you towards the bathroom. “Getting married?” 

“Well if you noticed the sash and could read basic english you'd know the answer to that question already, wouldn't you.” You grumbled as you waddled down the hall with a hand over your bump. 

“Very true, very true.” He replied, keeping in step with your stride. “I was wondering if I could buy you a drink? Non-alcoholic unless you’re into that kinda thing.” That's when you had to stop yourself from putting one foot in front of the other just to process what exactly was going on. 

“I'm sorry, but are you trying to hit on a pregnant woman who's clearly on her bachelorette party?” You laid it out as clear as day for the man who smirked at you, he was basically undressing you with his eyes. 

“What can I say, I have a thing for pregnant women.” 

“Well I can assure you, this pregnant woman is not interested.” You hissed as you began waddling to the nearby bathroom again. “I appreciate the flattery, really, but I'm happily engaged, committed and very satisfied as you can probably see the consequences of.”  

As you tried to walk away from the man who had been following you around the casino all night reached out to grab your arm. In shock you paused and turned to frown at him. 

“Listen you little bitch I was just being fucking nice.” He hissed through gritted teeth as he leaned into your personal space. “You dont get to talk to me like that, blow me off like I’m some fucking dork.” 

“She actually has a thing for dorks man so I can assure you she would be blowing you off if she thought you were one.” Thank god Bob had followed you because right now independence was the last thing you were in search of. “Let go of my wife.” It made your heart skip a beat at the mention of you being Bob's wife. It must have just slipped in the heat of the moment but the man did as he was told. 

“You're marrying him?” The man laughed obnoxiously in your face, it was clear he was intoxicated, you could smell it on his breath and see it swirling in his eyes. 

“She is.” Robert Floyd was a pacifist, he didn’t enjoy confrontation or anything that resembled an argument. He preferred to use logical responses and persuasive reasoning to identify situations that might not work well in his favour otherwise. “So how about you back off and I'll grab you a cup of coffee, you look like you need one man.” 

“Your wife here's really pretty.” He snickered to himself as he pushed your hair behind your ear. “I could cum in my pants just thinking about all the nasty things I'd wanna do with her.” As the man looked over at Bob, you took the opportunity to slap him straight across the face. The impact echoed in the hall and even Bob felt the sting. It was a solid slap, hard enough for him to let go of your arm so that you could walk away towards where Bob stood. “You fucking bitch!” 

“I'm okay.” You reassured him. “Let's just get out of here.” 

“I've got you.” Bob cooed as he checked you over quickly with panic filled eyes. “I'm here, I've got you.” They checked over every visible part of you before he pulled you into him for a hug so loving and protective, his chin grazed the top of your head as he eyed off the man who had been harassing you. “Come near my wife again and we’re gonna have problems man, I'm not kidding, stay away from her.” 

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” It must have been the bruised ego, but there was a definite switch that had been flipped inside the mind of this man you didn't even know the name of. “You mother fucker!” Bob knew this was escalating far too quickly, he needed to get you out of the way. So he turned his back on the man who was running right at him with balled fists and anger written in the wrinkles on his face. 

Robert Floyd turned his back on the danger running right at him. He couldn't offer tutoring sessions or use critical thinking skills to alter the course of the next few moments, because all he could think about was making sure he protected you. His best friend, the mother of his child. 

“Bob!” You gasped as he shoved you just enough to get you out of the way. You didn't see when Bob turned sharply to get one good and solid right hook in against the man's cheek, but he did. He got one punch–his only punch ever thrown. But to defend his wife, in self defence, Bob would do just about anything. Bradley Bradshaw had been coming out of the bathroom himself when he saw the hit play out. It was like time slowed down entirely as Bob pushed you away as gently as he could to keep you from being attacked.

“I told you to stay away from her!” Bob shouted as the man stumbled back slightly off balance. “Next time I'm not gonna ask you again pal–” His knuckles were throbbing, but Bob expected that. He’d never throw a punch in self defence before. “Go get a drink of water before I call security.” In Bob's own way, it was his way of still seeing the very good in everybody, you admired him for that. But something didn't seem right as Bob turned around to head back towards you, shaking his hand and mouthing a soft ‘Ow” your way. 

Bob had defended his family and he didn't feel sorry about it for a second, if anything he had a hard on and just wanted to get back to the hotel so he could ravage you. But Bob's single hit had done nothing but anger the man further. It didn't do much to stop the man from slamming his fist as hard as he could into the back of Bob's head. 

“Fucking cunt!” The man shouted as Bob stumbled forward and smacked his head on the corner of the wall. You wouldn't hear anything over your own screams. You couldn't see anything past the tears in your eyes and you couldn't see the man running down the hall with security right on his tail. 

But you saw the blood, the thick crimson blood that had begun to leak out of Bob's head from the impact of the hit he’d sustained. Bile rose in your throat as you sank to your knees before him as he laid on his stomach, bleeding profusely from his head. 

“Oh no–” You didn't know what to do. “Bob honey.” 

“I love you.” It was struggled, but you heard him. “I love you, my wife, my child.” 

“Bob?’ You coraked out. “Baby open your eyes.” You begged Bob as he laid skill in a pool of his own blood. “Oh god Bob no!” Panic had begun to take over your body as you tried to wake up the father of your baby boy. “Bob, open your eyes! Please baby, you're okay.” Again you tried to shake him as hands came to touch your shoulder. 

“Holy crap, Y/n–” Rooster gasped as he tried to find a pulse. “SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!” He shouted at the people now surrounding the scene in the hall. You couldn't breathe, but you could feel Bob's blood on your hands as you wiped them against your dress. 

“Baby wake up, come on you're okay, I know you are–” People don't just die like this do they? One minute they're there and the next second they’re gone. This doesn't happen right? It couldn't happen to you? Could it? “Bob, I love you, you love me, if you love me you'll wake up, you have to! You can't leave me here, not like this baby this isn't how you leave.” 

“Holy fuck what the hell happened!” Jake asked as he raced over. He was the one who pulled you back as Bradley did as he could to see if he could find a pulse. He couldn't. “Y/n, Y/n, listen to me, are you hurt? Is that your blood?” Jake frantically searched over you to see if you were bleeding, but as it turned out, it was just Bob's blood. “Bradshaw what the hell happened!?”

“He was sucker punched.” Was all Rooster said. “I dont even know if he got a shot in first but that son of a bitch fucking hit him!” 

“He was just here.” You mumbled as you shook in Jake's arms, clearly in shock. “He was just here, he can't be gone, he's just hurt.” Jake held you in his arms as you cried out for Bob, the love of your life, the father of your child and your best friend. “He cant be gone, he was just being Bob.” Jake locked eyes with Bradley as he looked over his shoulder. He shook his head, Bob wasn't breathing. 

“You're gonna be okay–” You weren't stupid. You knew that Jake had said you and not Bob, because he couldn't say Bob. He couldn't give you that hope. “We’ve got you, we promised.” Robert Floyd was a pacifist, he didn’t enjoy confrontation or anything that resembled an argument. He preferred to use logical responses and persuasive reasoning to identify situations that might not work well in his favour otherwise. 

But in this case, he did just enough to keep his family safe. The family he’d never get to see grow old.  ***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

mr. jeon and his 58 cm shoulders

forever by my side

mingyu still honors the love signified by his ring, even after all this time.

๑彡 kim mingyu x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 divorced!au/ex-husband!au, post-break up!au — fluff(?), angst(?)

๑彡 paragraph format — 0.8K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 title is taken from zack tabudlo’s by my side (ft. tiara andini).

๑彡 thank you sm for the overwhelming love for my future in your eyes! please accept this as a thank you gift :]

๑彡 this is connected to that fic, a prequel of sorts, but can also be read as a standalone. (i highly recommend reading that, too, though.)

Kim Mingyu is a man of confidence.

He exudes confidence, regardless of what he does. It’s a natural part of his aura — something that he can never control at will.

It comes in handy for his line of work, which often requires him to socialize and impress others. Occasionally, though, it also needs him to give presentations in front of large crowds.

As his audience continues to stare at him, with a mix of glossed eyes and awestruck expressions, Mingyu begins to appreciate his inborn confidence a little bit more.

He’s an extrovert. He does well with crowds. He’s comfortable striking up conversations with complete strangers. He’s talkative and spontaneous and outgoing, amongst other things.

And with his confidence, Mingyu can command a room with ease.

Yet, still, it doesn’t necessarily mean he enjoys public speaking — especially if the crowd he’s addressing is full of college students who are currently everywhere, just not in the classroom.

He can hardly blame them. He has been in their shoes before. He knows what it feels like to listen to professors and guest lecturers drag on when he rather spend his time elsewhere.

"Well then, if you guys thought of more questions later," he began his wrap-up speech, "feel free to email me. Thank you—"

A flurry of moment on his right caught his attention, effectively halting his speech. However, the cause of it is gone by the second he turns.

The only evidence he has that he didn’t hallucinate the entire thing is the murmuring that suddenly engulfs the room. And the small folded piece of paper on his right that seems to appear out of the blue.

Mingyu reaches for the paper and looks around the room. He immediately notices the students’ renewed interest in him. Or perhaps — most likely — they are just interested in how he responses to the note.

He looks down as he opens the paper.

Mister, do you have a significant other?

He chuckles soundlessly. Not because of how off-topic it is from the presentation he just gave, but because it is apparently enough to bring you forth in his mind.

After all, you are his other half. Someone he met and fell in love with within the walls of your college campus. Someone he put great effort to deserve the heart of.

The only one he could see sharing a future with. The only one he went down on one knee for and waited for at the end of the aisle.

The only one he loves with his soul. The only one he respects and cherishes to an unfathomable extent.

Mingyu gives a shy smile to the sea of students before raising his hand, palm facing inward. He lets the gold band around his ring finger shine under the spotlights aimed at him.

Their collective disappointment is loud.

Mingyu finds their reaction amusing. He has watched countless people react to his marital status over the years. Those who appear dismayed, he notes, often try their best to hide it, albeit unsuccessfully. As a matter of fact, this is the first time anyone has ever showed disdain so openly — a whole group, too, no less.

He can’t stop the soundless chuckle that escaped. He has always been proud of his marriage. He boasts about it — and you — every chance that he gets. It’s something that always brings a smile to his face. Something that he never gets tired of.

Even after the divorce.

The end of your marriage had been a mutual decision. You both agreed that it was the best action to take, before anything escalated to something unbecoming. And, at the time, it was the best decision to take.

The end of your marriage didn’t signify the end of his love for you, though. That’s why, even years after the court made your divorce official, his wedding ring stayed on his finger.

Mingyu may have failed to keep you by his side, but he absolutely has no plans to rid himself of the only physical reminder of your marriage.

Mingyu may have lost his rights to claim you as his spouse; but at least in front of strangers, he can still pretend that the gold around his finger is more than a remembrance.

"How are you going to find a replacement for your wedding ring if you keep letting people think you’re still married?" Minghao wonders when he meets up with him after his presentation.

Ironically enough, his longtime friend personifies the reality that his façade only works with strangers. Those who don’t know what happened. Nor can read him like an open book. Nor notice the hint of sadness in his eyes.

Mingyu simply shrugs at that, "Bold of you to assume I want a replacement in the first place."

(After all, his wedding ring isn’t just a conversational piece. It’s also his lifeline . . . something he can’t bear to lose, especially when he already lost you.)