GENRE/CW: smut, cnc, pwp, ex!sunghoon, unprotected sex, bondage, fingering, crying, slight dacryphilia, sunghoon is a red flag basically, usage of nicknames, squirting, lmk if i missed anything.
WORD COUNT: 1968 words.
SYNOPSIS: You try your best to forget about your ex, but he simply does not wish to leave you alone.
WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni.
A/N: yoo this is basically a late birthday gift for @evermorehoon <3 hope you like it :3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33
You felt restless, even at night.
It started with the sound of glass shifting in its frame, letting out a noise so faint you might as well wouldβve mistaken it for the old doors of your apartment building, however, when you roll over in bed, hair sprawled across the pillow, the whisper grows heavier.
You take a deep breath as your heart quickens its pace.
Youβd been dreaming of him againβSunghoon. Itβs always Sunghoon, your ex boyfriend. His face has haunted you every night since you left him. That sharp jawline which resembled some Greek statue, his eyes like cold winter despite being the warmest shade of brown, and the way he looked at you was as if you were something he wanted to lock in a box with himself and throw the key away.Β
You sighed, thinking the dream hadnβt ended, but then the shadow broke from your window, and the pale moonlight caught his frame. You realized it isnβt sleep dragging you under anymore, and gosh, itβs actually him. Heβs here.
βMiss me, darling?β His voice is lower than you remember, an octave deeper, almost even colder than the night itself, and yet so close it could burn into your skin.
You suck in a breath, βSunghoon? Whatββ
βDonβt say it.β He said, stepping forward, shutting the window with the quiet efficiency of someone who has practiced this entrance a hundred times in his mind, or maybe, in reality too, βdonβt ask why Iβm here, baby. You know it.β
You shook your head, but your throat hurt from dryness, from the mere fact that your ex was right in front of you, the prettiest man youβd ever seen, also the very man who was the embodiment of possessiveness and toxicity. He always had this power, bending your silence into some twisted form of submission.Β
He walked towards the bed, clad in black from boots to collar. His hair was damp, as if heβd run through rain just to see you, and droplets trail along his jaw, cascading down his adamβs apple.Β
βYou really shouldnβtββ
βOh I should,β he cuts in, his tone edged with a groan, βdo you think I can just forget you just like that, huh? That I can lie awake in my empty apartment and pretend you donβt exist? Every fucking minute, youβre thereβfuck, actually every second, youβre in my head, and you thought leaving would make it better? No. It made me worse than ever.β
Your pulse grows erratic as he reaches the edge of the bed, and you know you should scream, shove him back, but your body refuses to move. His presence suffocates you like a hand already around your throat, scent engulfing your senses.Β
βSunghoon,β you whisper, almost convincing yourself by now, βthis really isnβtββ
βDonβt, I swear,β his eyes darken, the pale gleam of the streetlight shining across them, βyou fucking want me back, even if you donβt admit it.β He chuckles then, βyouβre still in my hoodie.β
You groan, looking elsewhere to deny the truth he just threw your way. It wasnβt rightβwasnβt healthy.Β
He sat on the bed without asking, the mattress sinking under his weight. His knee brushing against your thigh, the air felt strangled by now, your eyes not looking up at him as he shamelessly stared at you.
βLook at you,β he murmurs, reaching up to touch your hair, making you flinch, but he grabs your chin, forcing your eyes to look at him, βyouβre still mine, hm? No one touches you, no fucking one gets to look at you like I do. Youβll tell me Iβm wrong, but your body,β he chuckles, thumb brushes your lower lip, βyour body never lies, baby.β
You open your mouth, but nothing comes out, and just like that, heβs rendered you speechless yet again. He smiles faintly, the kind of smile that always meant that he won, that he knows heβs gonna be right no matter what narrative he puts up against you.
βDo you want me to remind you?β He asks with absolutely no intention to wait for an answer.
The rope appears like a magicianβs trick, which he pulled from his coat, thin and rough, meant for you. Your breath hitches, fear and something darker tangling inside you, anticipation perhaps? You didnβt wish to admit to it.
βYouβll hate me for this,β he murmurs, almost tender, as if he could see your internal battles like you were an open book, βbut youβll thank me after, right darling?β
His hand closes around your wrist, grip strong which made you gasp and struggle to fight, yet he binds you to the headboard with the ease of someone whoβs thought about it too often, each knot precise. Your pulse races, but your legs remain limp beneath the sheets now, goosebumps covering your skin.
βSunghoonβplease letβsββ
βPlease what?β His mouth curls at the corner, fang peeking out, βplease stop? Or please donβt stop?β
Your silence is answer enough for him, his chuckle is low as he cups your face, pressing his lips upon yours fervently, pulling back the second you give in.
βYouβre trembling, always trembled for me, hm? You want me too, you need me. Say it.β
βIβoh!β
His hand slips beneath the sheets, the heat of his palm spreading across the expanse of your stomach. Slowly, he drags the fabric down until your (read: his) sweatshirt is tangled at your waist. The faint moonlight glimmers against your bare thighs.
βPerfect,β he breathes, eyes glued to you, βalways so fucking perfect for me.β
He presses his mouth to your collarbone, teeth scraping your skin, sucking into you so hard as a promise to bruise you. His fingers trail lower, grazing the line of your panties.
You jerk up, not being able to move much, βSunghoonβoh god!β
βShh,β his lips brush the shell of your ear, βyou left me starving, baby, you thought Iβd let you go that easily when every fucking inch of you belongs to me, huh? I wonβt let you run again.β
The pad of his finger pushes against your clothed slit, drawing a circle so languid it makes your back arch despite yourself. You want to resist, to bite back the sound crawling up your throat, but he notices the way your thighs twitch.
βThere it is,β he whispers, proud, βyour body knows me.β
With one tug, your panties are shoved aside, baring your folds to the cool night air, to him. His fingers slide between, slick already gathering. He hums, pleased with what he sees, especially the tears forming in your eyes, shame seeping in you of not being able to control yourself, of letting him back into your life just like that.
βWet for me, even now. You can lie with your mouth, baby, but your cunt stays true to me.β
The vulgarity makes your cheeks burn, but his finger dipping lower, teasing your entrance, steals your protest ever so easily. He doesnβt push inβhe circles, presses against you, toys until youβre panting against the sheets, struggling to move.Β
Then, suddenly, he pushes in, one slender finger, curling, finding that spot heβs memorized so well. You choke out a sound, writhing against the rope.
βShh,β he coos mockingly, βthe neighbours might hear. Do you want them to know how much you beg for your fucking ex?β
You shake your head, gasping, but his pace quickens. His free hand closes around your throatβnot too harsh, but just enough to remind you who controls the air in your lungs.
βThatβs it,β he groans, βfucking look at me while I ruin you.β
Your eyes flutter, but he squeezes your neck lightly, forcing your gaze to his. His dark stare pins you to him as his fingers pump deeper. Another digit joins the first, stretching you until your legs shake.
βYouβll cum on my hand,β he says, like a command, βand then youβll beg for my cock, yeah?β
Your whimpers only fuel him. His thumb presses against your clit, rubbing harsh circles while his fingers curl harder. The sensation builds up sharply, your body arching against the restraints.
βYou think anyone else can touch you like this?β he hisses, βno one knows how to open you up. No one makes you squirt like I do.β
The words practically slice through you. Your walls tighten around his fingers, the pressure unbearable. His grip on your throat tightens just slightly, pushing you over the edge.
It crashes into you, the unadulterated pleasure, your juices spilling, your thighs shaking, wetness coating his hand. You cry out, strangled, as your body convulses under him.
βFuckββ he groans, watching the slick drip onto the sheets, βthatβs mine, yeah? All fucking mine, baby.β
He withdraws his soaked fingers, holding them up to the light before shoving them into your mouth, βtaste it. Taste what I take from you.β
Your tongue obeys despite your mindβs panic, licking the salt of yourself from his skin. He watches, eyes glazed, as if the sight alone is enough to break him, however, he isnβt finished.
He strips his belt, the metallic clink loud in the quiet room. Unzips, frees himself, his cock all ready for youβthick, hard, waiting for your inviting cunt. He strokes it a few times, then lines himself against your soaked entrance.
βSunghoonββ
βSay you donβt want me,β his tip nudges your hole, parting your folds, βsay it, and Iβll leave.β
You try to speak but your breath catches, and silence damns you.
βExactly, babyβ
He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you wide. The intrusion burns, but pleasure blurs the pain. He groans low, head falling to your shoulder and you moan out.
βHoonie!β
βFuckβyou still fit me like no one else. Tight little pussy was made just for me.β
You whimper, ropes biting your wrists as you struggle. He began to thrust, each one deeper than the last, harder, until the bed creaked under each snap of his hips.
βThatβs it, take it, baby,β he groans into your ear, βhell, just choke on your own moans. You left me starvingβnow Iβll fuck the memory back into you.β
His hand returns to your throat, pressing, while the other clutches your thigh wide open. His rhythm is merciless, just how heβd always been, cock slamming against your walls until you cry out again, and again.
βLouder,β he commands, βlet everyone hear how much you still want me.β
Tears sting your eyes, but your body betrays you again. Each thrust pushes you higher, clit rubbing against his skin until sparks burst behind your eyelids.
βYouβll cum on my cock,β he snarls, βscream my name when you do.β
The pressure is unbearable by now. He slaps your thigh, thrusts harder, choking you just enough to make your world spin on his axis. Then you shatterβsquirting all over him, soaking his length, body convulsing.
βFuck, yesββ he curses, still thrusting into you, βyouβre mine.β
His pace grows wild, brutal almost, and with a final thrust, he buries himself deep, groaning your name as he spills hot inside you.
Silence followsβragged breaths, your wrists raw against the rope, his chest heaving against yours, little whimpers still leaving your lips, reverberating the room. But then his lips brush your ear, voice a promise, or rather, a threat.
βYou thought you left me, but this?β He thrusts shallowly, reminding you heβs still inside as you moan, βthis is forever. Iβll be back tomorrow night, and the night after. Until you understandβthat youβre fucking mine.β
The room feels colder now, while your heart pounds with dread and something darker you canβt name. And when he unties you, he kisses your wrists softly, reverently, as if the rope burns are vows.
With a last smirk, he kisses you deeply, βmine,β he whispers, smirking, leaving you aching for more.Β
| warnings. noncon, misogyny, physical abuse, toxic relationship, loss of virginity, anton is really really mean legit overly mean im sorry.
based on this request. sorry for the long wait </3
seeing you laugh with that man, someone he doesnβt know and heβs never seen before, anton feels his stomach tying into knots. it hurts as he swallows, the lump in his throat refusing to go away. he watches from afar, his eyes following each one of your movements; your hand curling around his arm, fingers lingering too long for this conversation to be considered friendly. thatβs not a friend, anton tells himself.Β
the words of his friends replay in his head. he wants to forget about them, ignore how brutal they sounded, how it made him question everything about you. he canβt help but wonder if eunseok wasnβt right, if the reason why you refuse to let him touch you is because youβre sleeping with someone else.Β
as he sees you so close to that guy with this pretty smile on your face he loves so much, the accusation of your infidelity only echoes louder in his head. he remembers wonbinβs mocking grin, agreeing with eunseok and adding salt to the wound by painting the horrible picture of you having sex with another man in antonβs head.Β
he told them to go fuck themselves before storming off and leaving eunseokβs apartment. he walked back home thinking his friends were just assholes, and itβs not so far from the thruth, but maybe they figured out what anton couldnβt.Β
he stays hidden until the guy leaves and he waits for you to get inside. when he pushes the door to your apartment open, youβre sitting at the dining table, slipping your shoes off, that same smile you offered to that stranger on your lips as you greet him.Β
anton only hums, quickly removing his jacket and getting his sneakers off as well. heβs silent, looking a little grumpy, glancing everywhere but at you. he walks into the kitchen thatβs open to the dining table and you rise up from your seat, a frown on your face.
βyou came back early,β you say, your voice soft as always, making it harder for anton to believe you could do such things to him. βit didnβt go well with the boys?β you ask and it bugs him how you read him so well.Β
he shrugs, βitβs whatever.βΒ
βiβm sorry,β you pout, looking at anton with big eyes.
then the room falls silent.Β
his eyes land on you and you just look so sweet and small, like touching you would break you. youβre his, youβre his girlfriend. he canβt bring himself to imagine you with anyone else but him, canβt accept the idea of your virginity belonging to someone who isnβt him.Β
he closes the gap between you two and kisses you, his mouth immediately taking control of yours. youβre taken aback and stumble backwards, but he keeps you from falling, hands tightly gripping your hips. this kiss is nothing like the ones he usually gives you. itβs not a quick, soft peck on the lips, itβs the oppositeβthereβs teeth and tongues, groans and moans, grabby hands fumbling with your clothes.Β
anton wants to prove that eunseok and wonbin are wrongβtonight, you will let your boyfriend touch you, you will let him take you because youβre not fucking someone else behind his back.Β
his hands roam over your body with a lot of impatience, hungrily moving his mouth over yours and leaving no time for you to breathe. he has to catch up on all the times you refused him before, he needs you to give yourself up to him, needs to know you want him, too.Β
but just as he thinks youβre finally ready, you push him back and back away from him.
βanton,β you call his name breathily, your chest heaving up and down rapidly. you lightly shake your head and he understands youβre rejecting him again.Β
he decides to ignore youβmaybe you need just a bit more convincing. anton pulls you back against him, leaning down and connecting his lips to your neck, kissing and biting. he feels your hands pushing his chest, he hears your noises of disapproval and he doesnβt stop, but then you use more force than expected, pushing anton off of you.
βwhat the fuck?β he says, sounding harsh and offended.Β
βanton, iβm sorry, but iβm not-β
you try to explain yourself to him, but your voice is only background noises to him. all thatβs playing in his head right now are his friendsβ words again.
βgotta hit her, put her in her placeβ, wonbin had said. βwhen a bitch acts up, thatβs all it takes to make her listenβ, eunseok chimed in.Β
as anton looks at you, wet and shiny eyes on him, begging him to calm down, he simply goes mad. he lifts up his hand and your whole expression changes, fear passing through your eyes and for some twisted reason, it pleases him.Β
he backhands you across the face and your head flies to the side, mouth opening in shock, but you have no time to recover until he puts his hand around your neck, forcing you to look into his eyes.Β
βyou fucking listen to me for once,β he spits out, an amount of anger youβve never thought him capable to hold driving his actions. βiβm tired of you treating me like iβm a goddamn fool, denying me basic fucking needs just because you wanna act a prude.β his words come out like venom, like a punishment, hitting as hard as the slap he gave you.Β
youβre crying now, tears after tears falling on your cheeks, dipping down to your neck and pilling over antonβs fingers. he doesnβt care, though. it doesnβt compare to the constant rejection you made him go through, the humiliation he felt because of that, his friendsβ mocking laughs directed at him.Β
and so he puts you in your place.Β
panties stuffed in your mouth so you canβt tell him what to do anymore, so you canβt cry and tell him no again. legs thrown over his shoulders, cunt swallowing his cock for the first time, pounding you into the mattress, no care for your nails digging into his back or muffled screams of his name. he doesnβt care like you never cared about his feelings.Β
βyou let that guy fuck you, donβt you?β he grunts into your ear, his hand belonging around your throat, threatening to tighten at any moment. antonβs hips are relentless, using you like youβre just a hole, and thatβs how he wants you to feel. dirty, soiledβ¦ well-fucked. βwhy else would you always reject me, huh? youβre just a fucking whore. great at pretending, iβll give you that,β he scoffs.Β
it doesnβt matter if you donβt know what heβs talking about. it doesnβt matter either if he doesnβt make sense. anton has to make sure you never disrespect him like this ever again.
| warnings. kidnapping, mention of physical violence.
a.n.: it's been stuck in my drafts for a while and idk what to do with it so here we are.
it takes a few ringtones before chenleβs call gets picked up, waiting a couple of seconds until he hears kunβs groggy voice on the other side of the phone.
β... hello?β
βuh, kun?β chenle has never felt more stressed out in his life before. he hopes kun doesnβt notice how terrified he sounds. βi, likeβ¦ really need your help right now.β
he hears kun shifting in his bedsheets, turning on the lamp on his nightstand. chenle can clearly imagine the frown he has on his face. βwhy the fuck do you need my help at 3 oβclock in the morning?β
βif i call you now, you can guess itβs really important,β he answers, bringing his fingers almost by reflex to his mouth, biting down on his already short nails. β...please.βΒ
kun snorts. βit pains you that much to say please?β he jokes, but he knows that word wouldβve never left chenleβs mouth if he didnβt need his help desperately. βiβm coming,β he sighs, βwhereβre you?β
βwell, huhβ¦β chenle looks around, the streets being totally empty, yellow lights lighting up the place, his shadow showing up on the pavement beside him. βiβll send you my location.β
kun sits up on his bed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm while letting out a yawn. chenle can hear his feet walking on the floor, surely picking up clothes from the night before.Β
βokay, iβll be there inβ¦ 20 minutes,β he announces, but heβll arrive in too long. far too long.Β
βno, noβ¦ kun, you donβt understand. i need you here, like, immediately.β chenle specifies, feeling the blood draining from his face little by little. heβs so fucking stressed his hand is shaking as he passes it through his hair, his heartbeat literally being out of pace.Β
kun sighs yet again, finding the situation more like a bother to him. βalright, alright!β he agrees, but itβs not like he had any other choice anyway. βlet me put some pants onβ¦ and-β he pauses, struggling to pass his feet through the holes of his jeans with just one hand, βiβll be there in 5.β
chenle feels the slightest relieved. βbring your ass here quick.β
β
when kun closes the door as he takes the driver seat, the car shakes a little, breaking chenleβs running thoughts at the same time. his friend says nothing for the first couple of seconds, making the beating of his heart the only sound he hears.Β
despite staying silent as well, chenle is the opposite of calm. he wants to appear calm and collected, but heβs not. he knows heβs fucked up, kunβs first reaction is enough to remind him of that, but he really isnβt feeling that bad. not for you, at least.
your body is lying unconscious on the backseats, not one single muscle moving. he didnβt think the hit on your head would knock you out for this long. well, to be fair, he didnβt think this through at all.Β
βi canβt believe this,β kun grumbles to himself, but he says it loudly enough for chenle to hear, too.Β
βwhat else did you want me to do!?β he responds, quick to defend his actions. βyouβre the only one i could call. i sure as hell wouldnβt have asked renjun,β chenle explains, βor worse, mark. he probably wouldβve pissed his pants or something.β
kun scoffs, amazed that chenle still has the heart to say so much nonsense. βdonβt you have any self-control? do you even realize the amount of bullshit you put yourself into?β
the youngest groans as if annoyed to be reminded of the seriousness of the situation. he looks outside his window, not wanting to give kun any answer, but he doesnβt seem to be done scolding chenle.Β
βyouβre lucky iβm not beating your ass right now because you fucking deserve it. what went through your head?β
chenle stays silent, gulping down. he keeps a stern expression, not looking at kun, even though he feels his angry eyes on him.Β
what does kun expect him to say anyway? everything happened so fast, he didnβt think twice. he doesnβt even know your name, and yet, he felt the impulse to have you. you were alone in an empty street, not looking around you, trusting fate a little too blindly. it was too easy, too obvious, he had to do it.Β
a whim, kun would call it. a sense of immaturity chenle still hasn't yet resolved. or whatever psychological shit heβd say.Β
but sometimes he just does stupid stuff without thinking of the consequences. itβs nothing deep. he does agree this time was stupider than any other. and he shouldnβt have acted so impulsively. that doesnβt mean he regrets it, though.
warning ; manipulation, gaslighting, anton is a bad son-in-law, slight angst if you squint, death, might be missing more honestly but nothing nsfw...
thereβs something about their son-in-law. theyβre sure of it.
they donβt have the proof yet, butβ¦ a parentsβ intuition is never wrong.Β
when you first introduced your boyfriend to them, he was almost too perfect. not to say you couldnβt bag someone like him, noβyouβre their perfect, golden child. but your boyfriendβ¦ he smiled so sweetly it almost seemed forced. the way he pulled out the chair and complimented her garden like heβd grown up tending roses and lilies himselfβit was all just a little too smooth. too studied.
youβve had a few boyfriends before. your parents hated them allβloud boys with foul mouths and bad mannersβbut their flaws were honest. this one was like a mask fitted to your dreams.
βanton,β he said, extending his hand across the dining table. his voice was soft and polite.
your father shook it with a glance he thought you didnβt catch, but his wife did. she brushed it off as she served the meat, but from that first dinner, the house felt different whenever he came.Β
she couldnβt explain it butβsomehow, the air got thinner, and the house got colder. the way anton looked at you when you watched the television, or when youβre playing with the housecatβit was not out of genuine love. more like a prize. a claim. a stake.Β
βwhat do you think?β you hummed, letting out a shy, flustered giggle. βheβs nice, isnβt he?β you said afterward, washing the dishes with a dreamy smile. you never liked washing dishes.
your mother just watched you with furrowed brows and hands damp with dishwater, a tight feeling bloomed in her chest. she didnβt say anything, just nodding her head in reply as she switched the topicβcan you put this back in the drawer?Β
maybe because of the way you looked around antonβthat your parents never had the chance, or the heart to tell you what they really felt about your boyfriend.Β
youβd always been headstrong, but never stupid. but with antonβyour mother saw how you leaned into him like your body didnβt know how to stand without his arm around your waist. it wasnβt just love. it was dependence. it was devotion.Β
so they bit their tongue, hard. how could they said it? how could they risk becoming those kind of parents when you so clearly thought youβd found your forever?Β
and when your father said carefully, βthereβs something about his silence that makes me a little nervous, sweetheart,β you laughed, covering your mouth and shaking your head like itβs funny. βpa, you always need someone to challenge you, donβt you?β
or when your mother asked, βhoney, why did mrs. jung saw antonβs car outside of our house at three in the morning?β you looked at her like sheβs weird, βmrs. jungβs likeβ¦ 90. does she even know what antonβs car looks like?β
that was the last time they brought it up.Β
still, you got married. their daughter was glowing in your dress, big bouquet in your hands, and a shiny, heavy diamond ring around your finger. anton looked at you like salvation.Β
your father gave you a toast that night that sounded more like a warning. βour sweetheart has a good heart,β he said, voice tight around the edges. βi hope itβs never taken for granted.β
anton smiled, sipping on his champagne. but his eyes didnβt.
your mother wanted to try again after the wedding, but you were already moving out.Β
and anton was so helpfulβpacking boxes before anyone else woke up, putting them in the backseat of his car, making lists in that neat, perfect, handwriting of his.Β
he handled your life like heβd already lived it.Β
ββ
βchannie?β
you brushed your fingers through his damp air, still tousled from the shower. he turned from the mirror slowly, towel around his neck with water dripping onto the bathroom tile.Β
βmm?βΒ
β is it okay if ma and pa stayed with us for a few weeks?β you smiled.
he blinked, wiping his neck with the towel. βstayed?β
you nodded. βyeah. thereβs a leakage at the house. a burst pipe or somethingβ¦ pa tried fixing it himself but itβs under the floorboards now. they called the plumber but he said it might take a while, so i offered.β you shrugged, giving him a cheeky smile.Β
anton didnβt answer right away. he moved to the sink and started drying his face with the towel like he hadnβt heard you.Β
βthey could stay in the guest room,β you continued. βjust for a bit. i feel bad when they said they could stay over auntieβs for the time being.β
anton dropped the towel over the counter and looked at you through the mirror. he wasnβt smiling, but he was calm. βof course,β he said, a second too long. βtheyβre my parents too.β
you smiled in relief and wrapped your arms around his bare waist, your cheek pressed against his damp back. βthank you baby. i know they can be a littleββ
βthey can stay,β he interrupted, gently. βiβll move things out of the room tomorrow.β
βoh, youβre the best. i know youβd understand.βΒ
he touched your hands, resting over his stomach. βiβll call other plumbers for them. maybe they forgot to check the water heater. easy to miss if theyβre not paying attention.β he smiled, turning to kiss the top of your head.
there was something strange in the way he said it, but you didnβt catch it. too happy and busy thinking about the preparations to greet your parents when they stayed over.Β
later that night, after youβd fallen asleepβanton sat in the dark of the living room, staring at the hallway leading to the guest room. it hadn't been used ever since they moved.Β
but now it would be.Β
and heβd have to pretend again. smile again. wait again.Β
he flexed his fingers. two weeks. maybe threeβif theyβre shameless.
he could manage. for you.
ββ
the first three days were normal.
anton would come home from work one hour earlier than you, which meant heβd have to be alone with your parents from around four to five every evening.
you didnβt think much of it. you didnβt think itβd be a problem at all. theyβd all be in the living room, maybe your dad reading on the recliner while your mom chatting in the kitchen while anton made tea for them.
but by the fourth evening, something shifted.
your mother was quieter when you got home. her smile was tight-lipped and brief and she barely touched the dinner anton made. she excused herself early and went to the guest room with a mug you hadnβt seen her fill.
when you peeked in an hour after freshening up, she was already in bed, lights off.
your father began misplacing things. first his reading glasses. then his phone. then his wallet. then strangely, the leather pouch he kept his medicines in. βmust be my age,β he joked, but you didnβt laugh. anton did.Β
βmaybe youβre just not used to the space yetβ¦β you said, soothing his back to comfort him. βnew house and allβ¦β anton stood behind you at the time, his hand on your shoulder. βi can start labeling the drawers, if it helps you, pa.βΒ
your dad gave him a smile. βno, thatβs alright. iβll manage.β
that night, when you and anton got into bed, you turned to him. βthanks for being so patient with themβ¦ i hope itβs not too stressfulβ¦βΒ
anton brushed a hand through your hair, murmuring, βitβs fine, love. itβs only temporary.β he kissed your forehead.Β
by the sixth day, anton came home late.Β
he was meeting an old friend after workβyouβd been a little surprised. anton didnβt go out often. he was always home and always near.
sometimes you thought he didnβt like other people.
so it was just you and your parents that evening. the house felt a little lighter, as strange as it sounds. you had dinner together, your mother went for seconds. your father carried the conversation and cracked jokes over stew and rice.
βyou know,β he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. βi noticed something strange yesterday.β
you hummed, looking up from your bowl.Β
βyou have a little camera by the bookshelf.β
you blinked, nodding your head. βyeah. safety.β
your dad squinted his eyes at you. βsafety?β
βyeah. you know, just in case? break-ins, or if weβre ever away.β you chuckled, eating your rice. βantonβs kind of paranoid about that kind of stuff.βΒ
your dadβs gaze didnβt waver. βbut there arenβt any cameras outside. usually people put cctv cameras outside, right?β
you shrugged. βi think there used to be one,. but it broke.β you answered, now sipping on your soup.Β
he frowned, shaking his head. he wanted to say more but his daughter didnβt seem bothered by it at all. instead, he just muttered a small mm, and stood up to get water. your mom didnβt say anything either. she just kept peeling the mandarinsβevery now and then, her eyes glanced at the camera in the living room.
when anton came back a few hours later, the three of you were lounging in the living room. βhowβs dinner?β he asked, dropping his coat onto the rack and kissing your cheek. βeveryone alive?β he joked.
your father didnβt laugh, but you did. nodding and smacking his forearm playfully.Β
your father held his gaze.Β
anton smiled wider.
ββββββ
on saturday morning, your dad came into the kitchen to find anton already there.Β
he was seated at the table, still in his pajamas, and sipping on his coffee. βmorning,β he said, not bothered to look up from his phone as his thumb scrolled.Β
your dad nodded and muttered a small morning in reply, then went to the cabinet to grab a mug. he reached for the top shelf, but the mug wasnβt there. not in another cabinet, or the other.Β
βyou reorganised the kitchen,β he said. anton smiled, his eyes still on his screen, βyeah.β
your father turned to look at him. βwhy?β
βthought itβd be easier. you kept forgetting where things were.β
there was a pause.Β
βi didnβt forget,β your dad replied evenly. βi just donβt live here.β
anton tilted his head, finally glancing up. βyeah, exactly,β he stood, slowly, and walked to the sink, placing his cup down right beside your fatherβs unwashed one from last night. βi asked my friend whoβs a plumber to take a look at your place,β anton said, rinsing his mug under the tap. the water hissed between them. βhe said the leak shouldnβt take more than a day to fix.β
your father nodded. βthatβs nice. the one i usually called saidββ
the son-in-law interrupted, turning slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was holding back a smile. βmhm. itβs odd they didnβt start the repair yet. itβs almost likeβ¦ someone didnβt want it fixed right away.βΒ
he turned the faucet off and looked at your father, full now. the silence stretched.Β
βbut thatβs alright. once theyβve fixed it, you can go back. youβll be more comfortable at your home anyway, wonβt you?β he smiled again, with teeth this time. nothing kind behind the way he said it, or his expression.
your dad didnβt answer. he watched as anton neatly folded the damp dish towel and draped it over the sinkβs edge. likeβ¦ like this was his kitchen, his house, his life, his wife, and there was no space for another. let alone, two.Β
anton stepped back, nodding as if something had just been confirmed for him. βiβll follow up with him again. maybe he can get started on it tomorrow. i just want to make sure you two arenβt stuck here longer than you have to be.βΒ
there was a moment where your dad almost said something.Β
but anton reached for a clean cup and placed it on the cabinet with a soft thud. a small twitch in his eye. βenjoy your coffee.β
ββββββ
when you got home that monday evening, your parents were no longer there.Β
no texts, no calls, no nothing. just gone.
you stood in the hallway for a moment, keys still dangling from your fingers. you had expected to see your dad in the living room, and your mom tending your garden. but no.Β
you went to the guest room, staring at the door slightly ajar, bed made too neatly.Β
βchannie?β you called.
βkitchen, pretty!β he replied, cheerfully.Β
you walked in to find him standing by the stove, his sleeves rolled up (he hadnβt changed), a wine glass already poured for you on the counter. anton turned his head slightly to look at you and smiled softly. βwhy donβt you take a shower first?β
βwhere are they?β you asked.Β
he stirred the gravy in the pan, then turned the heat low. βthey went home. the pipeβs are all fixed.βΒ
you blinked, tilting your head slightly. βthey didnβt even say goodbye?β
your husband dried his hands and came to you, pressing a kiss to your temple sweetly. βmaybe they forgot,β he murmured, his lips warm against your skin. βyou know how your dad is when heβs in a rush. theyβre just excited to go back home.β
you frowned. βi helped them pack.β he smiled as he returned to the stove, giving the gravy a final stir. you hesitated. something didnβt feel right, but it wasnβt a big of a deal.Β
anton walked past you to set two plates on the tableβyour favourite dish, perfectly and beautifully plated. a candle already lit. he pulled your chair out with a little flourish. βwhy worry? i paid for the repair and drove them backΒ if youβre worried about that.β he let out a soft chuckle.Β
you sat, anton across you. like usual.Β
βi thought we could celebrate.βΒ
βcelebrate what?β
he leaned in, eyes locked on yours. βjust the two of us again.β
ββ
five days after your parents left your house, you received a phone call from an unknown number.Β
your parentsβgas leakage. home. carbon monoxideβ
the words scattered in your mind like marbles rolling across the floor, impossible to catch. to stomach all information at once.Β
βdead?β you repeated, not even realising youβd said it outloud.
the voice on the other end paused. then gently, βiβm so sorry. it looks like it happened overnight.β
you stared straight ahead at the dresser in front of the bed.Β
anton walked out of the bathroom, towel draped over his neck.Β
βchannie, ma and paβ¦β you whispered, lips trembling as your eyes brimmed and pooled with tears.Β
your husbandβs eyes widened with perfect sorrow as he immediately walked towards you. anton wrapped his arms around your shaking body, took the phone from your limp hand, and ended the call for you. βoh, sweetheartβ¦β
you buried your face into his shoulder, wetting his body with your hot tears. βthey were just here,β you mumbled and hiccuped. βthey were just here.βΒ
βi know,β anton whispered, lips pressed to your hair. βi know.β he held you tighter, rocked you in an attempt to comfort and slow down your sobs. βiβm here, sweetheart,β he mumbled, placing his hand on the back of your head.Β
βiβm here.β
and as you cried, anton smiled ever so softly, it barely even touched the corners of his mouth.Β
π i feel like i haven't written for so long... this is probably bad but i hope you guys enjoy nonetheless! i didn't want to get comfortable with not-writing.
warning ; hard noncon, bullying, bullied anton, reader isn't a bully but a bystander, hate-fucking, revenge-fucking, choking (non-sexual?), slapping, use of the word 'bitch', use of the word 'rape' and 'raped'. read with caution!! read at your own risk!! darker than heartlink? i think so... don't like don't read :)
βah fuck, stop struggling so muchβ¦βΒ
antonβs face was pressed against the ground, the taste of dust and dirt thick on his tongue. the pebbles and gravels scraped and rubbed against his skinβgiving him light cuts. his arms were twisted behind his back, held down by doyunβs knee as the boy grunted and groaned in mocked annoyance.Β
βwhat should we do this time, hm?β youngji hummed, crouching down beside antonβs head. she twirled a pair of scissors between her fingers, her other hand gathering antonβs strands between her digits.Β
receiving no reply, she lets out a scoff before gripping antonβs hair, forcing him to tilt up. anton winched, his teeth clenched to swallow back a moan of pain.Β
βare you muteβ? fuck, i asked you a questionβ¦β she clicked her tongue in irritation, doyunβs knee dug harder into antonβs back. a choked sound left his lips, but he didnβt speak. βshould we shave his head this time?β jiwoo mused, suppressing back a giggle as she stood by antonβs body.Β
youngji let out a small sigh, dropping his head back on the harsh ground with a thudβgiving light slaps on his cheek in mockery. βthen, our anton wouldnβt be so handsome anymore.β jiwoo nodded in agreement and crouched beside youngji.
βwhat do you think, yn?βΒ
youngjiβs powerful voice cut through the airβshe turned to you, in fact all three of them did, her gaze laced with amusement and anticipation as the scissors twirled between her fingers. you felt your breathing hitchedβstood at a distance, far from where they had anton pinned against the ground.
anton didnβt lift his head but he felt the shift. the sudden weight of attention being momentarily redirected.Β
jiwoo tilted her head, eyes glinting with curiosity. thereβs a sly smile on her face. βyeah, yn. should we shave his head?β behind anton, doyun snickered, glancing at anton before his gaze fell on you. βmaybe you have a better idea?βΒ
silence.Β
you swallowed the lump in your throat, fingers curling at your sides. your stomach churned inΒ unease and sick feeling knotting in your gut. silence only continued to stretch between you and them.Β
you were never part of thisβat least, not really. you never joined in, never laughed, never mocked, never punctuated questions, never threw the first punch.Β
but you never stopped them either. you were just the same, if not worse.Β
you just stood at a distance, observing, sometimes looking away when it got too much. when the kicks landed too harshly at antonβs ribcage, when doyun punched anton in his stomach so hard that he puked, when the laughter rang louder than antonβs scream in agony.Β
when anton stopped struggling and just laid thereβgrunting and groaning in pain as he held his stomach with his bruised arms, accepting whatever they decided to do to him that day.Β
your hands trembled slightly at your sides. you told yourself it wasnβt your faultβthat it wasnβt your place, and there was nothing you could do.Β
youngji let out a soft hum before sighing, her interest waning. she lifted antonβs head by his hair once again to get a good look at his faceβbefore dropping his head back onto the ground. βahhβ¦ youβre lucky this time anton,β she mused, propping her chin on her palm, staring down at the boy.
βyou should thank yn, hm?β a lazy smirk tugging at her lips. anton barely reacted, he didnβt flinch, didnβt move, just breathing shallowly underneath doyunβs knee.Β
jiwoo clicked her tongue, bottom lip tugging into a mocking pout. βthatβs right, anton! if it werenβt for her, maybe we really wouldβve shaved your head.β she let out a delighted giggle, poking at his back with her long nail and pressing into the bruises.
doyun scoffed, gathering a handful of his hair and yanking his head up, forcing him to face you. βgo on,β he cooed, shaking antonβs head lightly.Β
antonβs jaw clenched, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion and pain. he didnβt resist nor did he struggleβhe just let his head hang limply in doyunβs grip, sweaty dark strands falling over his forehead.
he didnβt look at you either.
youngji leaned in, tucking two fingers under his chin to tilt it up so he was facing you. her gaze flickering between the two of you. βcome on, anton. say it. thank you, yn,β she said, voice saccharine and mocking.
his eyes locked into yours and that was when you properly saw itβthe condition of him, his lips were bruised and split, dried and fresh blood cracked at the corners of his mouth. a deep cut stretched along his cheekbone. the corner of his eye tinged an ugly shade of purple from being punched. his hair disheveled from how they had grabbed and yanked it.Β
but it was his eyes that held something that unsettled you the most.
they werenβt just exhausted or in pain. they were justβ¦ hollow, yieldβ¦ looking at you with no emotionsβnot with anger, not with desperation, not even with resentment. this was worse. you hoped that he at least begged them to let go or go easy, so you know there was still a tinge of hope within him.
because thisβthis empty and quiet acceptance meant that he had long since stopped expecting anything different. kindness.Β
his swollen and dry lips barely parted, voice came out cracked and weak.Β
βthank you, yn.β that meaningless gratitude, spoken not because he believed that it was truly thanks to you, but because he had no choice. nothing else to give,Β
your fingers curled around the hem of your skirt, only glanced down at your shoes, swallowing the hard lump in your throat.Β
the weight of his stare remained pressed against you, but you didnβt dare meet it again.Β
doyun scoffed, muttering something incoherent under his breath before shoving antonβs head back down. his body hit the floor without resistance, without so much as a grunt of pain. he stood up and stretched his arms, cracking his back. βugh, iβm fucking hungryβ¦β
youngjin hummed in satisfaction before standing up as well, dusting her hands together. βthatβs nice, isnβt it?β she smiled, looking down at anton. βbe kinder to us, anton, weβve tolerated a lot for you.β she continued before crossing her arms over her chest, walking away, followed by doyun.
jiwoo chimed, stepping over antonβs limp form as if he were nothing more than an empty sack. she quickly followed the two friends behind.Β
you finally let out an exhale, a breath you hadnβt even realised you were holding. for a long moment, you remained still (but you knew you couldnβt for too long, theyβd get mad). the back of the gym never sounded so quiet, so empty.Β
you never realised how much their voices and laughter filled the space until they were goneβleaving the faint hum of air and the uneven rhythm of your own breathing. that being louder than antonβs ragged breathing.Β
he still hadnβt moved. curled in on himself like a caterpillar, his body limp like a discarded ragdoll. the rise and fall of his back was so faint you almost wondered if he was even still alive. hadnβt it been for theβ¦ gratitude he uttered to you just now.Β
your fingers twitched at your sides in hesitation. but before you let yourself think twice, you walked towards and crouched down beside him.Β
a pack of tissue. and a single decorated bandage.Β
you placed it carefully within his reach, just above the tips of his fingersβthough you werenβt sure if heβd even take them.Β
ββm sorry, chanyoung,βΒ
your gaze flickered over his form one last time, your fingers brushed over his forehead, pushing a few strands of his dark, sweat-dampened hair away from his skin. anton didnβt flinch, he blinked slowly.Β
you swallowed hard, then without another word, you stood back up. and walked away.Β
like always.Β
ββ
it wasnβt long after that that anton transferred schools.Β
on thursday, he was thereβquiet, bruised, hollow-eyed. entering class an hour past lunch break with a bloody uniform and beaten face and a zipped mouth.
then the next, he was gone.
no goodbyes, no rumours, no explanations from the teachers.Β
people didnβt even bother to ask where he went, what happened, nor tried to search for his whereabouts. your friends were sadβnot because he was no longer here, but because theyβd have to look for a new punching bag to mess around with. you didnβt ask where he went either, because as much as you wanted to, you figured itβd be better to not.
they said ignorance is bliss.
and soon enough, he faded from your (and everyone elseβs) thoughtsβanton became just another ghost of the past, another forgotten casualty in a place that swallowed people whole. despite his absence and people knowing the reason why, like you, they didnβt try to stop the new victims being bullied.Β
nothing changed. the cycle continued, faces changed, and life moved on.Β
you graduated with a clean record to your name (thanks to jiwooβs family), left seoul for good, cut off any and every connection you had from that hell-place you called high-school. changed phone number, went off-radar. no reunions, no nostalgia, no looking back.
you built a new life in a quieter side of korea where they couldnβt reach you.Β
ββ
βhey, heyβdonβt cry,β you murmur, crouching down to nauenβs level. your hands gently wipe away her pearly tears threatening to spill from her doe, innocent eyes. βteacherβs here, hm?β
the school entrance is quiet and empty now. all her friends (your students) have already gone home, picked up by their parents and school vans. the usual chatter and laughter have long since faded. outside, the sun is beginning to set.
nauen sniffles, rubbing her eyes with her tiny fists. hiccuping, her chest heaves with each sobs. βb-but my daddy said heβd comeβ¦ he promisedβ¦βΒ
you offer her a warm smile, brushing stray strands of hair away from her face. βi know, i know. sometimes parents get just a little bit caught up with workβ¦ but iβm sure heβs on his way.β you cup her small cheeks to brush away her tears with your thumbs, dapping her damp cheeks with your sleeve.Β
she nods, but her lower lip trembles. she hugs her bunny tightly against her chest.Β
you glance at the clockβyouβre supposed to clock out almost an hour ago. her father is really, really late.Β
a small sigh escapes your lips as you reach for your phone in your pocket, ready to dial her fatherβs number given by the school. βiβll call him, okay? waitββ
βnaeun,βΒ
you freeze.Β
the voice is deep and steady behind you, familiar in a strange way that makes your stomach twist. you see as naeunβs teary face instantly lights up. βdaddy!β she exclaims, her small feet pattering against the wooden floor as she runs past you.Β
you turn slowly.
βdaddyβs sorry,β
and there he is.
tall, broad, and standing in the doorway that almost blocks all the light from the outside. the sun stretches his shadow across the floor, dark and reaching.Β
anton bends down, effortlessly catching naeun who runs into his arms. she giggles as he lifts her up in the air, carrying her. a soft chuckle rumbles from his chest as he smooths her hair back, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her headβand an even gentler apology from picking her up late.Β
for a moment, he looks like any other father picking up his daughter from school.Β
your eyes remain on your socks, chest tight, lungs refusing to expand properly.Β
itβs a suffocating kind of stillness, the kind that wraps around your ribs and squeezes until they break and crush. the kind that reminds you of something you donβt want to remember, of all the years you tried to repent and bury deep in the back of your head. pretending like it never existed.Β
your skin prickles, your fingers twitch slightly in your lap as you stand up. your nails playing with the skin around your nails, picking and tearing. the weight of his gaze is nothing like beforeβno bruises, no blood, no tired, hollow eyes staring up from the ground.
he stands tall, taller than you, bigger than you, and looking down.Β
βteacher! my daddyβs here!β naeunβs voice is bright and excited and innocent. you have to force yourself to look up, meet his gaze that is already on you, smile untouched, steady. itβs almost polite.
βsorry for holding you back, teacher.β anton finally says, his voice is smooth. you swallow, nodding politely. you lick your lips to wet them, muttering a small, itβs okay.Β
you wonder if he remembers you.
your tongue feels heavy, the words tangled in the back of your throat. anton doesnβt move, humming as naeun wraps her arms around his neck, wanting to go home and freshen up, it dawns on you like a realisation that heβs married. how longβ? naeunβs five, which means when he was in his early 20βs? but heβs not wearing a ring and you guys are onlyβyou remind yourself that itβs none of your business.
the thought should bring relief, that maybe he too, has moved on from it all. that maybe the past has finally loosened its grip around him. maybe anton finally gained his confidence back and finally settled down, a pretty wife and a cute daughter.Β
yeah, maybe itβ¦ it didnβt matter anymore. this encounter is nothing more than a fleeting moment of the past brushing against the present. just a coincidence, just luck.
but then anton shifts naeun higher in his arms, his finger pressing against the fabric of her dress.Β
βwhat do you say naeun?βΒ
βhm?β the little girl blinks up at him, arms draped around his neck.
βyou should thank your teacher.βΒ
you freezeβthe colours around you seem to drain, sucking the air out of the world.
itβs the words, and his voice.
the mockery crawls over your skin, slither into your ears, and wraps around your throat like a noose. the same words from years ago that carry the same unbearable weight. back then, youngjiβs voice had dripped with amusement, jiwooβs giggle rang in your ears, and doyunβs grip forced antonβs head up. now itβs just silence between you and anton, and his daughter.
your stomach churns, bile rising in your throat as you force your fingers to remain steady. not like youβre not expecting it, but he still remembers. of course, he does. of course he remembers. without a doubt.
why wouldnβt he? he was bullied. he was bullied. bullied by you too.Β
βcome on, say it, thank you, teacher,β he repeats, tone patiently and waiting.Β
nauen, oblivious to the look on your face, turns to you with a bright smile. βthank you, teacher!β
you nod. you swallow, but your throat is dry.
βthatβs nice, naeun.βΒ
ββ
β...does it hurt?β you carefully asked as you dabbed the cotton ball soaked in sterile solution against his split lip.
anton didnβt flinch, nor did he move. the boy in front of you just sat thereβknee drawn up against his chest, back pressed against the cold tiles of the abandoned bathroom. his bruised knuckles (from fighting back) rested limply on his lap. his gaze casted downwards.
you werenβt sure if he even heard you. but you continued cleaning his wounds nonetheless.
β...iβ¦ i hope it didnβt hurt too mββ your sentence was cut off. anton moved your hand away from his faceβthe bleeding had mostly stopped, but the wound still looked rawβ. his cold fingers, stained from blood that belonged to his very own, wrapped around the curve of your wrist.Β
he finally lifted his gaze and you felt something in your chest tightened. he wasnβt looking at you like he was grateful for your hospitality. he was looking at you like something else entirely.Β
βdonβt do this,β he murmured, his voice hoarse from screaming earlier. when he choked out his saliva from doyunβs constant kicking to his stomach, and his sides.Β
you swallowed, breathing shallow and held back. β... do what?βΒ
anton exhaled a quiet laugh before leaning his head back against the wall. groaning as he cracked his neck. tilting his face up towards the dim light flickering above,Β
then, without so much as a single glance at you, he shoved your wrist away before pushing himself to his feet.Β
anton stepped past you, heading for the door. but just before leaving the bathroom, he mumbled under his breath,Β
βpretend.β
ββ
you stretch your arms above your head, groaning as you arch your back slightly. the classroom is quiet, save for the rustle of papers and the soft scratching of your pen against the worksheets as you finish marking the last of them. stacking the papers into a folder.Β
your eyes avert to the clock. huh, much later than usualβbut at least you can rest over the weekend.Β
letting out a small sigh, you begin packing up, slipping activity books and folders into your bag and wiping down your desk. the rest of the school, except a janitor, had emptied out long agoβthe hallways silent, and the playground dark.Β
as you reach for the zipper of your bag, the classroom door suddenly creaks open.Β
you blink, turning your head towards the door.
itβs not one of the staff (that hasnβt clocked out too) asking what are you up to, nor is it the janitor excusing herself to clean the classroom. itβs not one of your students crying, suddenly telling you that theyβre actually still in school, waiting for their parents.
no, no, itβs not that at all.
anton stands in the doorway.
you straighten upβfingers stiff around the little zipper. his face is partially obscure in dimness. he isnβt moving, just standing there.Β
your breath comes shallow, swallowing the lump, and trying to not think much of itβyou force yourself to speak.
βnaeunβ¦ sheβuhβshe went home by van today.βΒ
anton tilts his head slightly, a light smile tugs at the corner of his lip.Β
βyeah. i know that.β
βoh,β you murmur under your breath, barely audible, lips pressed into a tight line. thatβs all you can say. your body stiffens as his eyes stay on you. you canβt ignore the way your neck prickles, the way shivers run down your spine.Β
the silence stretches.Β
β...do you need something?β you finally manage to force yourself to say something, voice careful and measured.Β
anton doesnβt answer right away. he just blink. once, twice. slow, deliberate.Β
then, he steps inside, sliding the door shut behind him.Β
the sound of the door closing is deafeningβa finality that sends sharp thrills across your body. your fingers curl around the strap of your bag.
itβs almost funny how your classroomβyour safe space that was just filled with childish laughter and giggles from this morningβcan suddenly feel too small and eerie. the walls lined with crayon drawings and alphabet posters cave inβthe wooden floor beneath you feels wobbly.Β
you feel like 17-years-old you again. standing in the corner of the bathroom, too scared to move, too afraid to speak, as your friends dunked antonβs head into the toilet bowl and unbuttoned his shirt cold.Β
but now itβs not the five of you anymore. just two. no youngji. no jiwoo. no doyun. just anton.Β
a bully and her victim.Β
you force yourself to breathe, manually, inhale and exhale quietly. his gaze doesnβt waver, doesnβt falter as he steps towards you. his hands stuffed into his slacks.Β
you swallow hard. the memory tastes bitter.Β
βchanyoungβ¦β his name doesnβt sit right on your tongue, after over ten yearsβ
his lips twitchβso you do rememberβnot quite a smile or anything. βi thought youβd forgotten,β he hums, amused. anton knows youβll remember. how can you not? you and your wonderful friends brought hell from above to earth. specifically catered for him.
β...iβ¦ no,β you shake your head, your voice comes out quieter than you mean to, anton eventually stands by your desk, towering over. anton looks around your nicely decorated classroom, eyes gleaming as his eyes land on his daughterβs table.Β
βsoβ¦ a kindergarten teacher?β his voice is light and casual like heβs catching up with an old friend. you force a nod and a smile. βyeah.β
anton hums, dragging his fingers along the edge of your desk. βi wouldnβt have guessed,β he muses, tapping his fingertips against the wood. his gaze flickers back to youβand the clay arts made by your students, including naeun.Β
βwhat subject do you teach?β he asks. your fingers shift and play with the strap of your bag, rubbing the fabric between your fingertips. β...arts.β you answer.
you shouldnβt be having this conversation. not with him, out of all people. you donβt know nor do you want to know why heβs asking you all thisβyou donβt want to know why he cares (if he does), you donβt want to know how he finds you after all these yearsβand how you never realised you have been teaching his daughter for over a year.Β
but one thing you do know, is that this isnβt right. and youβre scared.Β
so you stand up, the chair behind you making a screeching sound against the floor. βi haββ he cuts you off, letting out a small sigh. the only way to leave this classroom is by passing anton. anton tilts his head, almost lazily, as he brushes his hair back.Β
βsit back down,β he says, voice light as he nudges his head up. thereβs no mistaking the command beneath it.Β
your grip on your bag tightens as you stand still. you donβt obey,
βdo they not do background checks on teachers?β anton continues, taking another step forward. you take another step back, the back of your knees brush against your chair. your breath catches.Β
βthey do,β you manage to say, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you donβt like where this is going.
anton hums, his bottom lip tugging out slightly as if heβs considering. βhuh,β he mutters. βstrange. guess they missed something, then.β
βwhere are you going with this?βΒ
antonβs lips curl like a sneer, a smirk. he shakes his head, muttering something underneath his breathβyou bitch,Β
before you can react, anton sweeps everything off your desk with one forceful motion, sending papers, stationeries, clutters, and even your studentsβ crafts scattering to the floor. he wraps his hands around your wrists, tight and unrelenting.
a gasp rips from your throat as the breath is knocked out of you. anton slams your back against the desk as he looms over, pressing down just enough that you can feel the weight of him above you. βahββ you yelp in pain, struggling and trying to wrench your wrists free. the edge of the desk digs into your back.
anton watches you with an unreadable expression across his face. βyou donβt get to act surprised, yn,β he murmurs, voice low and steady. his fingers flex and squeeze around your wrists to make you wince. βiβll show you what it feels like,βΒ
he gathers both of your wrists in one hand, his body between your legs. βi neverββ your breath stutters, lips trembling. βyou never whatβnever bullied me?β he snickers, like itβs funny. he clicks his tongue. βyouβre just the same, yn. if not worse,β he continues, shaking his head.
anton uses his free hand to tug on the collar of your shirt, before bringing his hand down in a swift motionβunbuttoning and sending your buttons flying on the floor. your breath catches in your throat, a strangled sound escaping as the fabric loosens around you. βchanyoung, pleaseββΒ
tears pool and spill down along your cheeks, shaking your head in hopes that it will wake him upβrealise thatβ¦ what heβs doing is wrong, and just becauseβjust because you were there, ten years ago, youβre not aβ
βi donβt get how someone can just watch someone else get beat up to pulp.β he sighs, shaking his head like heβs disappointed. disappointed in you. βyou didnβt even bother. i think iβd prefer if you had just fucking joined them, yn,β he darts his tongue out to lick his lips. his eyes gleaming with something cruel as he watches your reaction. the way your tears fall on your desk, and your chest heaving with upcoming sobs and panic. βat least they had the fucking balls, but youβ¦β
anton shakes his head and flashes you a smile. βitβs okay. iβll show you what you shouldβve done, ten years ago.β he murmurs before bringing his free hand up in the airβ
his rough palm cracks against your cheek with a sharp, ringing snap. the force of it jerks your head to the side, a stinging heat slowly blooming across your skin. the impact pauses your tears.
your breath stuttersβeyes squeezing shut for a second too long before snapping open again. the taste of copper spreads on your tongue where youβve bitten down too hard.Β
anton exhales, shaking out his hand. βyeah,β he mutters. more to himself than to you. βthatβs about right.β he continues before bringing his hand up again to slap you. harder this time. so hard you think youβve lost your hearing. the force rattling through your skull.
you think you stopped breathing tooβvision blurring at the edges. thereβs a faint ringing in your ears like youβre underwater. anton lets out a quiet chuckle, tilting his head. βstill with me?βΒ
you donβt move, swallowing hard the saliva that gathers at the back of your throat. βthis is nothing compared to what i went through, yn.β he shakes his head before roughly pulling down your bra, exposing your tits; nipples perky from the cold air kissing your skin. a stark contrast to the heat of antonβs presence.
youβre sobbing at this point, shaking your head in resistance but anton knows how shy you can be.Β
afterall, youβve always been a bystander rather than a participant. just a watcher from the sidelines, never speaking up, never stepping in.Β
he lets out a humorless chuckle as he pinches your nipple, and tugs it hard, earning a yelp out of you. βyou were always so good at staying quiet. what happened to that?βΒ
your sobs choke in your throat, breath hitches in shallow gasps as you shake your head more violently. words died out long ago, along with your five senses from the slappings. anton doesnβt waste any time, itβs late, and he needs to get back home to his daughter.
he tugs his finger around the hem of your pencil skirt, pulling it down swiftly in a motion. βchanyoung, iβiβm soβiβm so sorry,β you sob, looking at him through your blurry vision. it mustβve entered his one ear, then left on the other, because anton completely dismisses your apology.
his fingers run along your clothed slitβwhere, out of your bodyβs natural response, you feel yourself getting wetter and warmer down there. you cry harder, do you want this? noβno you donβtβyour body canβt tell apart a lover and a rapist. it canβt tellβ
βwow, you bitchβ¦β you hear anton let out a dry chuckle as he tugs and pulls down your panties, exhibiting your glossy, pretty cunt. he glances at you, with your eyes shut, and lips pressed into a tight lineββare you seriously getting wet from getting raped by the boy you used to bully?β he shakes his head, biting the inside of his cheek.
βiβm notβ¦ iβm not,β you murmur. youβre not a bully for god sakes, youβre not like them. there was nothing you could do back thenβand if you could turn back time, you definitely wouldβve changed it allβinterfere and fight back, you know better nowβso that you wouldnβt be where you are now. writhing and struggling underneath him.
without a warning, anton shoves two digits into your entrance, pumping them in and out and coughing a moan of surprise out of you. βahβ!β your back arches slightly, struggling to release your wrists from his iron grip.Β
he continues to finger you, rough and deep, fingers curling to press and fuck your spongy spot. your walls clench and twitches around his fingers, choking on your own sobs and saliva. βyou donβt get to forget, yn,β he murmurs, his eyes focusing on the way your cunt squelching and soaking his fingers. βnot when i remember everything.βΒ
you are reaching your climax, but you refuse. you donβt want to give into what he wants.Β
he mustβve noticed. antonβs eyebrows furrow in frustration as he increases his pace, shoving his fingers deep, that he might as well just fist you. his actions become faster and rougher in an effort to make you squirtβin which you do seconds after.Β
his gaze flickers upward to your face, tilting to the side in hopes you can merge with the desk underneathβashamed and embarrassedβcatching the way your breath stutters, chest rises and falls unevenly. βlook at thatβ¦β he muses, almost fascinated as he brings his fingers up and to your face, using his thumb and pinky finger to squeeze your cheeks, just enough that your lips part slightly. he shoves his two fingersβthat were just deep inside your cunt earlierβinto your mouth, making you taste yourself. βeven nowβ¦ you just take it.βΒ
your fingers twitch against his hold as your resistances muffled. you whimper as he lets go of his grip around the curves of your wrists, winching as blood rushes back to your hands, leaving behind an ache. you try to move them, but they feel too heavy.
you hear the metal clinking as he unbuckles his belt, and unbuttons his pants. but you canβt bring yourself to look. youβre too tiredβtoo exhausted, body limping from merely getting fucked by his fingers. you donβt want to imagine further.Β
βso tell me, teacher,β he drawls, lifting your legs over his shoulders. anton wraps his hand around his big, throbbing cock, precum pearling at the tip of the head. he angles his cock against your entrance. βhow do you resolve bullying in your classroom?β he brutally forces and slams his cockβhis full lengthβdeep into you. βdo you just watch too?βΒ
you gasp outloud, hands gripping the end of your desk. your head tilting up, back arching. your breath hitches, stuck somewhere in the middle of your lungs. you let out a moan, shutting your eyes tightly, βfuckβ!β
anton doesnβt bother giving you the time to adjust yourself around his cock. he forcefully drives his cock in and out of your cunt, biting his bottom lip hard at how tight you are. youβre gripping him like a viceβare you a virgin? anton wants to laugh.Β
βdoes doyun fuck this pussy too?β he grunts, shifting both of your legs over one shoulder. you shake your head violently. the thought ofβthe thought of getting fucked by doyun rushes over another disgusting round of tears. βuse your words, you bitch,β anton groans, sliding his other hand thatβs not gripping your ankles, up till they reach your tits. he fondles, digging his nails into your flesh.Β
βnoβ¦ hβhe doesnβt,β you manage to exhale between your sobs. you hear anton hums in somethingβamusement? disbelief? satisfaction?βas he rears his hips back and then sunk into you, again, again, and again.Β
anton leans down, bringing your legs along as he thrusts deeper, cock reaching deeper inside your cunt than before. youβre defenseless as he squeezes your cheeks in his hand, parting your lips like a duck. anton thinks of other ways he can make use of those pretty lips. but for now, this is enough. you flutter your eyes open, seeing antonβs faceβscrunched up nose, his upper lip lifting in a sneer.Β
heβs disgusted of you,
he gathers a blob of saliva in the back of his throat before tilting his head slightlyβthen he spits on your mouth. he watches as it trails down the corner of your lips, down along your cheek.Β
the way you look underneath himβcheeks red and flushed from getting slapped earlier, mascara runs down your cheeks along with your pearly tears, his spit, your snotβhe thinks momentarily that it was all worth it. the bullying was paid for thisβyour suffering. the way you completely wrecked underneath.Β
it feels like a perfect retribution. a pretty one, a really pretty one.
anton clicks his tongue, brushing his thumb over your wet cheek, smearing the mess further.
βfuck,β he rasps. he revels in the ecstatic feeling of your walls clamping down around him. his hung balls swinging and hitting your pussy repeatedly, all while his hand kneads your cheeks. your tits bounces along with every mean thrusts, what a sight for sore eyes.
you tell yourself that you canβt feel anything, that if you close your eyes tight enough, the moment will pass like another bad dream. but with the way your body shakes with every ragged breath and every single time the head of antonβs flushed cock knocks on the entrance of your wombβit disappears.Β
shame curls in your stomach (besides the bulging head of antonβs cock) like rot, cloying and stinky, seeping into your lungs. you want to go back to the day behind the gym and kill him. kill him, and then those three motherfuckers, and then yourself.
but just like there was no undoing thatβthere was no undoing this.
your back slides back and forth on your desk, unintentionally tightening up some more around him. anton watches as you breathe through your mouth as he presses his weight on you, rocking and slamming his cock everywhere it could reach.Β
frowning, he leans down to slam his lips on yours. teeth clashingβyou taste a taste of copper in your mouth. you donβt know who it belongs to, but thereβs a sting on your lips soβ
you donβt reactβdetach yourself internally as anton kisses and ravishes your lips messily, a lot of tongue, and saliva, and the taste of blood. he nibbles on your bottom lip, sucks on your tongue, and fills your throat up with his saliva, and swallows on your muffled sobs.
you think itβs your fault that he turns out this way.
the bystander effect.Β
maybe if you were a little braver thenβ
βdo they know their beloved teacher was a bully?β he chuckles drily against your lips, tilting his head to bite and nibble your cheek. he moans against your flesh, sucking it. βdoes naeun know, yn?β he hums, grinding and slamming his pelvis against yours.Β
you force yourself to shake your head, tears drying, body dehydrated. β...noβ¦β your voice comes out dry and hoarse. you feel anton smiling against your cheek as he nods, muttering a small, thatβs hypocrisy.
he pulls back, winchingβeyebrows pinched together, forehead creasedββfuck, βm gonna cum,β he murmurs under his breath, chasing his high. you shake your head, choking on your sobs. βplease, chanyoung, please,β you donβt know what youβre pleading for anymore.Β
he scoffs, thrusts becoming more sloppy. anton frowns as he moves to wrap his hands around your throat, fucking you like a sex doll, like a fleshlight. your eyes roll back, moaning, breathy, and pitchy. βfuck you, ynβi fucking hate bitches like you the mostββ he grunts.Β
anton thinks heβs going to cry.Β
your head tilts up, anton presses his thumb over your windpipe, just enough for you to feel the pressureβbut not murdering you entirely yet. if he wants to kill you, he doesnβt want you dead. he wants you to suffer.
he chases his high, your cunt wraps around him so tautly that he doesnβt want to pull out. you want this to end so badly, youβre in so much pain, everywhere. you just want this to stop, already.Β
anton finally lets go of your throat when he sees the colour draining out of you, letting you breathe. your chest heaves violently, lungs burning as you suck in desperate gasps of air. the rush of oxygen makes your head spin, but a brutal thrust from him makes you wish that he wouldβve just killed you. tear your insides and kill you.Β
βi hate you so fucking much,β tears swell in antonβs eyes socket, he shuts his eyes tightly as he nestles his face into the curve between your neck and shoulder. you donβt feel his warm, hot tears running down your skin.Β
with a few more strokes, and languid thrusts losing its rhythmβhe ejaculates inside, ropes of hot, thick spurts of cum deep inside of you. filling you up nicely, filling you up full. he nibbles on your skin with a soft groan.
for a moment, his head plays that specific memory of you years ago standing there in the empty classroom past school hoursβcrying and trembling, taking hits after hits, slaps after slaps, and kicks after kicks. all because you told anton to use the other exit when leaving schoolβjust so he wouldnβt cross paths with the others. you got beaten up and it was all because of himβ
βi loathe you, yn,β he murmurs against your skin as he empties his balls inside you. almost incoherent you thought he confessed. you donβt move, donβt flinch. he doesnβt pull out.Β
youβre merely breathing, like youβre trying to keep yourself alive.Β
indeed itβs true, that the abused will become the abuser.Β
your head tilts to the side in defeat, eyes falling on naeunβs desk.
perhaps you will too.Β
ββ
βhi, yn right?βΒ
you looked up from your textbook, a shy smile formed on your lips. βhi, yeah.βΒ
βiβm youngji,β the girl with the long hair hummed, sticking her hand out for a handshake. you took it. it lingered a second longer, before she pulled away. βwhere are you from?β she sat on the table next to yours, ignoring the fact that she sat on someoneβs notebook, and the way the boy flinched and looked down on his crumpled pages.
you noticedβbut didnβt comment on it. βah, seongnam.β you replied, nodding. she mused, humming in acknowledgement. βthatβs niceβ¦β youngji murmured, leaning back as she supported herself with her arms.Β
βyou know, i have two other friends that will absolutely love youβ¦βΒ
you beamed, warmth quickly spreading through your chest. making friends on the first dayβwhat luck! maybe you are as charming as your mother told you to be,,.
βreally?β you asked, tilting your head slightly. so innocent.
youngji grinned harder, smiling ear to ear. a glimmer in her eyes that you mistook for kindness.Β
βmmhm!β she said, nodding excitedly. βyouβll be perfect for us! we love girls like you. so cute and dainty.βΒ
would things be different then had you chosen another approach?Β
π hopefully this isn't too dark! this was heavily inspired by weak hero and the glory :) tysm for those who read this n gave me feedback bcs i finally posted it hihi. reblogs, comments, and asks are so appreciated! let me know what you guys think!!
βare you sleeping, baby, by yourself? or are you giving it to someone else?β
πnow playing: where do broken hearts go by one direction
β― summary: Renjunβs counted up all his mistakes, and thereβs only one he truly regretsβletting you walk out of his life. Now heβs searching every lonely place and calling out your name, trying to find youβ¦but he just doesnβt knowβwhere do broken hearts go?
β― pairings: renjun x fem!reader
β― genre: exes to lovers, angst, eventual fluff
β― words: 4.0k
β― tags: pining, jealousy, angst, arguing, swearing, love confessions, kissing, reader uses she/her pronouns, just renjun being all mopey and yearning for 4k words
Renjun swirled the straw around his nearly untouched mojito, watching the lime float around the glass like a tiny boat in a sea of awkward tension. Across from him, his dateβMinji? Miyeon? Something with an Mβtapped her acrylics on the table like she was sending out a distress signal in Morse code.
She probably was. And he couldnβt blame her. He hadnβt exactly been present latelyβnot on this date, not on any of the dates his best friends had set him up on in the last two weeks since the incident. Since the day heβd chased after a girl who looked like you in the cereal aisle at Target. That was the moment his friends decided enough was enoughβRenjun needed an intervention. He needed to finally get over the fling heβd had with you a year ago.Β
βSo,β the woman finally said, arching a perfectly plucked brow, βdo you always look like you want the ground to swallow you up on a first date, or is that just a me thing?β
Renjun blinked, forcing a smile. βSorry. Just a long day.β
She narrowed her eyes. βRight. And calling me another girlβs name before? Was that part of your long day too?
Minji-Miyeon-Mirae scoffed. βYouβre actually such an asshole.β
She stood, grabbed her coat in one dramatic movement, and was out the door before Renjun could even finish saying βwait.β Not that he was going to.Β
Silence returned to the bar, dragging its usual friend, guilt. The girl was pretty, objectively. Funny in a dry, slightly sarcastic way. Renjun thought maybe he couldβve liked her, in some alternate universe where he wasnβt still emotionally committed to the ghost of you.Β
βWoah,β a voice said next to him, smug and far too amused. βYou lasted a measly ten minutes before scaring her off. New record buddy.β
Renjun didnβt look up. βGo away, Haechan.β
βCanβt,β Haechan replied, sliding into the now-empty seat with his signature shit-eating grin. βYouβre way too entertaining like this.β
A beat.
βYou called her Y/N again, didnβt you?β
Renjun sighed, letting his forehead drop to the table with a dull thud. βShut up.β
βCanβt you just call her?β Haechan said after a pause, fiddling with the edge of a coaster. βOr text? Or something? Because this whole pining-in-silence act is getting a little pathetic.β
Renjunβs jaw tensed. If only it were that simple.
He would call. He would text.Β Hell, heβd even scroll through every corner of the internet just to find a trace of youβan old post, a tagged photo, anything. But there was nothing. No number. No handle. No digital footprint to cling to.
The only thing he had left was the look on your face the day he let you go. And God, he saw it every time he closed his eyes.
It was his biggest mistakeβis his biggest mistake. Letting his pride, his fear, that dumb male ego of his convince him that he didnβt need to commit. That he could keep you close, enjoy the warmth, the jokes, the fun part of youβwithout ever having to actually choose you.
Heβd thought you were joking when you asked him for something more. He laughed, deflected, tossed out some careless comment about not being the boyfriend type. He figured youβd just let it slide because you never made things difficult. You didnβt push.
He thought everything was fine. But it was worse. Because you left.
He woke up the next morning to cold sheets. There was no note. No explanation. Just a blocked number staring back at him like a punishment.
It didnβt hit him all at once. It crept inβslow, insidious, like rot spreading under his skin. He tried to tell himself it wasnβt that deep, that maybe you were just taking space, maybe youβd come back. But the empty space beside him, the silence, the unanswered calls, proved him wrong every single time.
Each minute that passed, he wished heβd been that bit more attentive, more aware. Maybe then heβd know exactly where to look for you, to apologise, to beg for you to come back. He didnβt really know. He had never been good at this.
525,600 minutes later (a year), and he still had no clue where your broken heart had gone. All the searching, all the calling, all the desperate attempts to find you... all of it was useless.
So, noβhe couldnβt just call.
But explaining all of that to Haechan would only lead to another lecture, maybe something more than his current intervention attempt. And Renjun really didnβt want to talk about you on some therapistβs couch, which is exactly where Haechan would drag him next.
So instead, he settles for the simplest version of the truth: βShe doesnβt answer my calls.β
Haechan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. βJesus, Renjun. You really need to move on. Like, actually move onβnot emotionally dissociate for ten minutes before accidentally trauma-dumping or calling the girl the wrong name.β
Renjun didnβt respond. Just kept stirring the lime in his drink, watching it swirl like it might somehow drown out the noise of his best friend.Β
Haechan huffed, snatching the untouched glass and taking a sip like it was his own. Then he kicked Renjun lightly under the stool. βIβm serious, man. I know it sucks. But you canβt keep living in a relationship that doesnβt exist anymore. Sheβs gone, and youβreββ
He cut off.
Eyes wide. Mouth frozen mid-sentence.
βHoly fucking shit.β
Renjun blinked, glancing up. Haechan had gone stillβtoo still. His eyes were gaping, unblinking, locked on something over Renjunβs shoulder. His whole body had shifted, like someone had yanked him upright by invisible strings. It wasnβt just surprise. It was recognition. Shock.
Like heβd just seen a ghost.
βWhat?β Renjun asked, brow furrowing.
But Haechan didnβt answer. Didnβt even blink. Just kept staring. And that silenceβthat silenceβtold Renjun everything.
He turned, slowly, already bracing for nothing. For some false alarm, a girl who only looked like you from behindβbecause that had happened before. Too many times before. But his heart knew better.
Because there you were.
Right there, standing just inside the entrance of the bar, shaking rain from your umbrella, laughing at something someone said. Your head tilted slightly, eyes crinkled at the corners in that way that used to undo him. That way he used to love.
Your hair was a little shorter now, styled differently, and you wore a new shade of lipstick he didnβt recognise. But none of it mattered. You were still youβunmistakably, devastatingly you.Β
And then his eyes dropped.
To the guy beside you. To the way his hand settled at the small of your backβeasy, familiar, like he belonged there. Like heβd been there for a while.
Renjunβs lungs seized. Because all this time, heβd been clinging to the ghost of you. And now you were hereβreal, alive, radiant. But no longer his.
βDude,β Haechan said quickly, reaching across the bar like he could physically pull Renjun back into his body by the shoulder. βJustβrelax. You donβt even know if itβs serious. Could be her cousin. Could beββ
But Renjun wasnβt listening.
His pulse roared in his ears. His vision tunnelled.
Because this wasnβt your cousin. He could tell by the way the guy leaned in, like he had every right to whisper in your earβhow fucking natural it looked. He could feel something inside him unravelling, thread by thread.
What if you loved this guy? What if you told him all the secrets you used to tell Renjun in the dark? What if you gave that guy the parts of you that Renjun had taken for granted?Β
A cold sweat prickled across his neck. His mind felt like it was shutting downβthoughts crashing into each other. He shouldβve done more. He should have fought harder. Chosen you, openly, without hesitation. He shouldβve been the one to make you feel wantedβneeded. He shouldβve been the one at your side tonight.Β
But he wasnβt.
You were hereβin his city, in his favourite barβwith someone elseβs hand on your back and that smile on your face. The one that used to be his. And you looked okay. Happy. Without him.
βRenjun,β Haechan tried again, quieter now. βYou need to stop looking. Maybe theyβre just talking.βΒ
βYou donβt get it,β Renjunβs voice was hoarse as he spoke, the sentence barely making it past his lips.Β
Haechan frowned, his typical grin replaced with concern. He leaned forward, eyes searching his friendβs face. βWhat do you mean?β
Renjun swallowed hard, trying to steady the rage that was bubbling inside him, but the image of youβstanding there, laughing with someone elseβkept burning into his mind.
βYou donβt get it,β he repeated, the words slipping out in a raw rush. βBecause youβre not the one who let her go. You donβt get it because sheβs not your mistake. You donβt get it because youβre not sitting here watching the person you couldβve hadβshouldβve hadβmove on with someone else.β
βRenjunβ¦β Haechanβs voice was soft, but Renjun couldnβt stop.
βI fucked it all up, Haechan,β his hands tremble as they gripped the edge of the bar. βI had everything with herβeverythingβand I just... let it slip through my fingers because I was too scared. Too fucking scared to admit that I wanted her. That I needed her. And now sheβs gone. And sheβs happy. How the hell am I supposed to move on from that?βΒ
Haechan didnβt answer right away. He just looked at his friend with a weakened expressionβsympathy, pity, worry. It only made it worse.
Renjun shook his head, his breath shaky as he said, βLook, forget it.β He threw a few bills onto the bar counter and a couple of coins as a final, defeated gesture. βI canβt do this.β
He was already on his feet before Haechan could say anything.
βRenjunβwait, come on,β Haechan called after him, but Renjun didnβt look back. Didnβt need to. Didnβt want to.Β
And the scrape of the stool mixed with the echo of his name was loud enough to draw attention. Loud enough that you looked up from across the bar.Β
Your smile faltered.
For a second, you frozeβglass halfway to your lips, laughter still clinging to your expression but slowly fading because your eyes tracked toward the door. Where you saw him.
Your Renjun.
Storming out, shoulders stiff, head down, already bracing against the rain smearing the windows. That same stupid black jacket he always woreβfraying at the cuffs, faded at the seams.
Something in your chest clenched.
The guy beside youβyour date, though that word felt hollowβsaid something. Maybe your name. Maybe a joke to pull you back. But none of it mattered. You were already moving.
Haechan caught sight of you just as you passed. His eyebrows jumped, startled. βY/N?β
But you didnβt stop to explain. Didnβt grab your coat or your bag. You just went.
Out the door. Into the rain.
The door of the bar slammed behind Renjun with a gust of wind, and the cold slapped him in the face.Β
The rain had turned to a steady downpour, but Renjun didnβt bother pulling up his hood. There was no point because he didnβt mind. He wanted to let it soak through his jacket, soak through his bones. Maybe if he got cold enough, numb enough, it would stop the hollow pit gnawing his chest.
He walked. Fast, at first. Then slower. Then not really walking at all, more like driftingβhead down, eyes unfocused, just moving because it was the only thing he could do. He didnβt care that his shoes were getting ruined, that his shirt was clinging to his skin, or that people were staring.
He was okay with letting them see the idiot who couldnβt move on. The idiot whoβd spent a year whispering apologies to an empty pillow, to a blocked voicemail, begging the universe for one more chance, only to find out that it had given that chanceβto someone else.Β
He shouldβve never come out tonight. He shouldβve stayed home. Shouldβve ignored Haechanβs half-hearted setup, the hopeful way his friend kept saying, βMaybe this girl will be the one to help you move on.β
No one could help. Because no one was you.
His steps slowed to a halt in the middle of the street, rain pelting down. He blinked up at the sky, and for a moment, he thought maybe he could cry. But no tears came. Just that same hollowness in his chestβthe one shaped like you.
Thenβ
βRenjun!β
He froze. His heart stuttered like a glitch because that voiceβthat fucking voice.
He turned slowly, every movement mechanical, like his body wasnβt quite connected to his mind. Raindrops clung to his lashes enough to blur his vision. But not enough to miss youβyouβrunning down the street toward him.
βRenjun, wait!β
Your shoes splashed through puddles until you stopped a few feet from him, breathless and soaked. Chest rising and falling. Your hair stuck to your cheeks. Your eyes were wide and frantic. And that guyβthe one who had his hand on your backβwas nowhere to be seen. Just you. Just him.
And he wanted to revel in that. Wanted to soak in the fact that, for the first time in a year, you were standing in front of him, not as a memory, not in his dreamsβbut real.Β
But then⦠he really looked at you. You were wearing a little white dress. Thin straps. Bare shoulders. Rain clinging to your skin like mist, making you shiver. And for a second, all he could feel was worry.
βAre you crazy?β he snapped, already shrugging off his jacket. βWhat the hell are you doing out here in that?β
You blinked, caught off guard, arms instinctively wrapping around yourself. βIββ
βYouβre gonna get sick,β he muttered, moving forward, rain dripping from his lashes. βFucking hellβHere.β He shoved the jacket toward you.
But you took a step back. βDonβt.β
βWhat?β
βDonβt do that.β
His brows pulled together. βDo what?β
βThis.β Your voice cracked on it. βBe like this. Beβ¦ nice. Be the boyfriend type.β
There was a beat. Then two. And then he stilled, completely. The words hit him like a slap. Like ice water and he dropped the jacket to his side.
βYouβre not the boyfriend type,β you said again, quieter this time. βRemember?β
He remembered. God, did he remember. And so did youβclearly. Except, you hadnβt just remembered it. Youβd internalised it. Let it sink into your chest and fester.Β
That one careless commentβmeant to keep you from getting too closeβhad gutted you. And it had cost him a year of quiet regret. A year of replaying that moment, trying to rewrite it in his mind, trying to imagine what mightβve happened if heβd said literally anything else.
And it may have taken him time, too much damn time, but he was here nowβtrying to figure out how to fix up the heart heβd let down.
βI didnβt mean it,β he said, voice hoarse and ragged. βThat nightβI was scared. You were getting too close, and IβI panicked. I thought if I pushed you away, it would hurt less when you left. I thought I was protecting myself. I wasnβt thinking about you. I was being selfish.β
You let out a short, bitter laugh. βThatβs not an excuse.β
βI know itβs not.β His breath caught. βI fucked up. I know I did. And Iβm so fucking sorryββ
βNo.β You stepped back like his words had teeth. βYou donβt get to do this,β you said, angrier. Hurting. βYou donβt get to show up a year later and drop some sad little apology like that makes this all okay. Like it undoes the pain.β
βThatβs not what Iβm trying to doββ
βBullshit!β You snap. βYou didnβt just fuck up, Renjun. You wrecked us. Wrecked me. Made me feel stupidβlike everything we had was just something I made up in my head. And then you let me walk away.β
His breath hitched like you'd punched the air out of him.
βI didnβt let youββ His voice cracked. βYou left while I was asleep. You didnβt even give me the chance to fight for you. You changed your number, deactivated your accounts. Moved.βΒ
You shrug, jaw trembling. βWhat was there to fight for? Youβd made yourself clear.β
He stared at you, silent, rain running down his face like tears. And thenβhis voice dropped. βThen why are you here?β
You blinked. βWhat?β
βIf it was really over for youβif you meant all of thatβwhy the hell did you come after me?β he says lowly. βWhy run through the fucking rain just to tell me itβs too late?β
βI donβt know!β you bite back, chest heaving. βOkay? I donβt fucking know!β
He tongues the inside of his cheek, jaw tight, and shakes his head slowly.Β Β
βNo,β he states. βYou donβt get to do this either. You donβt get to scream at me for not fighting for you when you vanished. You didnβt just leaveβyou fucking disappeared. No goodbye. No warning. And Iβve been looking for you, Y/N. Everywhere. In crowds. In strangers. In every room I walk into, I look for you.β
His voice splinters, but he continues. βAnd the one time I find youβyouβre with some fucking guy. And thatβs fine. It may have killed me to see it, but you looked happy. You were smiling. So I left. Because I didnβt want to ruin your night. I told myself I had no right.β
His chest rises and falls, drenched, furious, heartbroken. βBut then you follow me. And I donβt know what the fuck to do with that.β
The silence that followed was deafening. You turned your face away, ran a shaking hand through your dripping hair, trying to breathe, trying to hold it inβbut your mouth was already trembling, your eyes already breaking.
Renjun stepped closer. And this time, you didnβt move. You let him into your space. You let him drape the soaking jacket over your shoulders, tender in a way that makes it worse. Makes it hurt more. Then his shaky voice cuts through the quiet.Β
βTell me what you want me to do with that, baby,β he says. βAnd I will. I can be sorryβI am sorry. Iβll always be sorry. But Iβm not a mind-reader.β
The words barely register. All you can hear is that pet name. Baby. The way it slips off his tongue like it never stopped living there. The way it sounds like home and heartbreak all at once.
βI saw you leaving,β you finally whisper behind a sniffle. βAnd I donβt knowβI couldnβt let you go. Not again. Not without saying something. Even if I hate you for the past, I couldnβt let this go. Not when I stillββ
You stopped. The words lodged in your throat like glass.
Renjun stepped forward, eyes dark and wrecked and pleading. βNot when you still what?β
Your eyes found his. Red-rimmed. Glassy. Brimming with everything you swore youβd buried.
βNot when I still love you,β you breathe. βand I fucking hate that I do.β
He doesnβt even let the last part of that sentence affect him. Not when his mind has been running in circles for the last year, for the last hour, with thoughts of you. Because Renjun has spent too many minutes (525,600, to be exact) wondering if youβd ever love him again. So his mind clings to the one word. Still. Meaning you never stopped.
He stands there, a breath away from you, his chest rising and falling as his gaze settles on your lips.Β
βDonβt,β you whisper, though itβs more for yourself than him.
Not that it matters anyway because Renjunβs not listening. He takes a step closer, his hand brushing against your cheek, his thumb tracing your jaw like heβs familiarising himself with the feel of you.
βI will,β he breathes, almost pained. βBecause I still love you too.β
And then heβs kissing you.
His hands grip your face, his thumbs pressing into either side of your skin, holding you in place as though you might slip away again if he doesnβt.
Itβs not a gentle kiss, not soft. Itβs aching, as if every second apart has been torture. And it has been, at least for him. 525,600 minutes being deprived of the ability to taste you, to kiss you, to claim you as his.Β
His body moulds against yours, slick and cold, every wet inch of him flushes against you as he pulls you closer, tighter. The rain clings to his skin, and you taste it on his lipsβsalt and earth, a sobering reminder that this is really happening, that heβs here, and youβre not imagining any of this.Β
You donβt think; your hands find their way to the damp fabric of his shirt, fingers digging into the material hungrily. His lips trail from yours, slow and delicate, down the line of your jaw, across your throat. You shiver at the sensation of his breath on your skin, his lips leaving a juxtaposing heat in their wake.Β
When he kisses the delicate curve of your collarbone, you gasp, your body responding instantly to the person it knows it belongs to.Β
"God, Iβve fucking missed you, Y/N," he pants.
βIβve missed you too.β
Renjun smiles and presses his forehead against you. His fingers trace idle patterns on your back, but there's a weak, almost vulnerability in his eyes when he speaks again.Β
"If I take you home with me right now," he starts, "will that guy you walked in with be mad?"
You arch an eyebrow, trying to stifle a grin. βThat guy? You mean Yunho?β
The corners of his lips drop as he presses them in a thin line and nods. βYeah. That guy. You and him... youβre not...β
You bite your lip, tempted to play along, but the fragile ache in his voice pulls at your heart, making you want to stop whatever scenario heβs spiralling in his head
Β "Nope," you reply, shaking your head. "Yunho and I are just friends. Nothing more, I promise."
Renjunβs grin widens, his eyes softening with relief. βThatβs good, then,β he says, chuckling.Β
Itβs your turn to lean in, your breath hot against his lips as you murmur, βTruthfully, the only reason I even asked him on a date is because my friends kept telling me I needed an intervention. The only way to get over you is by getting under someone else and all that.β
He pulls back slightly, raising his own eyebrow with a small chuckle.Β βYou knowβ¦Haechan said the same thing to me.β
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "Itβs weird, actually. How my very first date since we ended things just so happened to bring me right back to you.β
His grin deepens, a look of pride swelling in his chest as he gently traces his finger along the curve of your jaw.Β
βItβs because Iβm yours, Y/N,β he says, thumb brushing the softness of your skin. βI was made for you. Your heart knows it. Even though I broke it, Iβll be the one to mend it.β He leans in, lips resting just below your ear. "Always."
whenever i think about dating the 127 boys my first thought is always johnny ): i definitely do think his presence is the most calming out of all of them. hand at your lower back always, sidewalk rule, candid photo king! your classic textbook boyfriend to a t. easily adaptable to your personality because he values connecting with you (inside) than with you (outward projection). does that makes sense? he'd rather you not put up a front with him because authenticity is attractive. i think about that one fan interaction when he told the girl to tap his shoulder if she needed anything and you could just see her shoulders relax as the atmosphere became more comfortable. i want to rest my head on his shoulder so bad im so sick. any johfam girlies out here who feel me π
synopsis; no matter what, you and johnny are inseparable, right?
-in which to you johnny is your everything, but to johnny your just an awesome friend.
you shot awake, covered in a thin layer of sweat. you look to your left, looking at the digital clock thatβs propped up on your side table. A scene thatβs all too familiar to you.
βsuddenly its 2:30. as always, I think of you. I toss and turn again todayβ
The fatigue from your previous nap slowly fading away as you blink, trying to process where you are.
Once it you register that youβre in your room, your thoughts immediately start to drift. Thinking of things ranging from your upcoming exams, to what you ate last week, then, to johnny.
βIn this sleepless night, all I think of is youβ
You let out a sharp sigh, as you sit up. Johnny was your best friend. Well to him, thatβs what you were. To you, he was much more than a friend. You love johnny. He was your sun, and you were always in his orbit. Hovering in the same place and never moving.
βThe same orbit as always, you are my sunβ
βIn this sleepless night, I keep hovering around the same spotβ
β¦β¦.
you had always been there for johnny. Even from the very beginning, you both have been inseparable, best friends who knew each other inside out. You guys spent hours together, hours you wouldnβt trade for the world.
Texting late into the night, hanging out on weekends, and even weekdays for fucks sake!
Sharing the kind of bond that you guys would only describe as soulmates, platonic ones at least. Despite knowing everything about each other, you had a secret that youβve kept from johnny for years.
βOur relationship labeled as friendship, I wonder if Iβll ever ruin it.β
You had a crush on him, maybe even loved him. Though youβve never said the words out loud, there was no need to. It was enough just to be close to him, even if you knew deep down that heβd never see you the way you saw him.
βI just hover around you, almost as if I was lost.β
And you were okay with that, thatβs how it has always been. Or at least, what you told yourself being that you were terrified to lose the friendship you guys had.
βI revolve around you without being able to move closerβ
You and Johnnys friendship had been a constant in your life. Being that youβve known each other since you were kids. Even when Johnny slept around, told you about the new girls he was dating, you remained at his side. Loyal, and unmoving.
Everyone one saw it. Well, except for Johnny of course. He was oblivious to your feelings for him. The way you looked at him, the way you gave him little trinkets that reminded you of him every-time you went out, the way you memorized his order from his favorite Mexican spot, and when he had a bad day youβd buy it for him, the little βI love yousβ before you hung up the phone.
Everybody knew you had a crush on johnny, it was no secret.
Thatβs why when johnny walked into your shared apartment where the monthly friend hangouts would take place with are girl you had never seen in your life, everyone turned to look at you.
Johnny never brings girls to your friend hangouts. Thatβs how you knew he was serious about her.
You felt eyes on you. You already knew what was happening. Mark and Jaehyun, your second closest friends looked at you with an all too familiar expression. You knew those eyes. It was pity.
They knew about your little crush on johnny, and it crushed them just as much as it crushed you to know that johnny didnβt feel the same way about you. As your eyes met, it felt as if they could almost hear your heart shattering.
βyou donβt know I need yaβ
As johnny began to introduce the girl on his arm, you began to zone out
βeverybody, this is my girlfriend jihoon. Sheβs been wanting to meet you guys for a while, so please treat her with respect!β he exclaimed with a smile on his face.
drip
βnice to meet you guys! johnny talks about you all the time!β she says with the exact same enthusiasm and intensity as johnny.
drop
As everyone exchanged names, you zoned out yet again. You felt your eyes watering as you looked at how johnny looked at her. He looked at her with admiration, love, and longing.
drip
He looked at her how you looked at him. And it crushed you. It crushed you to know that the boy you had loved for years beared himself to another. To know that your feelings would never be reciprocated.
βYet again I waste my timeβ
You couldnβt take it. You couldnβt sit through the love of your life talking about the woman he loved. The woman he cherished. The woman who wasnβt you.
You excused yourself before she could even say a word to you. You couldnβt trust yourself to speak. If you did, you wouldβve broken down right there.
You sat unmoving in your balcony, thinking of how things couldβve been if you said something. Thinking about how you and johnny couldβve been.
βThis distance that always stays the sameβ
But deep down, you know that wasnβt true.
βIs a distance that cannot be narrowed between usβ
You knew you never had a chance from the beginning.
βbefore I knew it, I got used to the distanceβ
Pulling out your phone, you had decided to listen to music. That was until you saw your lock screen. It was a picture of you and johnny from years ago.
βI look at your picture again and again, everything is uselessβ
There you stood, next to johnny as he held up a half-assed congratulatory paper, and a trophy. It was for winning the science fair.
You smile as you recall the memory.
Your heart ached, but you swallowed the pain, as you always did. You told yourself that you were just being silly, that he wasnβt abandoning you. He was just wrapped up in a new relationship, and eventually, heβd come back to you. He always did.
As much as you tried to ignore it, of course, something had to come and hit you with reality.
You felt conflicted, trapped in your thoughts. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you failed to hear the glass door sliding open opening.
βIs this seat taken?β Jihoon asked as you looked up, her voice having a slight uncertainty to it, like she was hesitant to even have this conversation.
βno it isnt?β
βcan I sit here?β
βyeah, sure.β
jihoon smiled nervously, as she sat down.
βI know you and johnny are best friends, but you guys are super closeβ
βwell yeah, he is my best friend?β
βOkay yeah, well I just want to make sure nothing is going on. He might not notice it, but I see the way you look at him.β
Her words hit you like a punch in the gut, lingering for a bit before you decided to respond.
βwere just friends I promise. Iβll back off if you want me tooβ
βIβd like thatβ
βHeβs with me now, and it feels weird for my boyfriend to be close to another girlβ
your heart dropped, her words suddenly feeling like a wake up call. You saw this coming for a while now. As much as you tried to deny it, jihoon wasnβt just an addition to johnnyβs life, she was a replacement for you.
βIβll try to back off then.β You muttered, everything hitting you all at once.
βThank you.β Jihoon said, the sincerity in her voice almost sounded like she was mocking you.
And with that, jihoon walked away, the conversation you guys had cutting deep. You stood there, frozen, trying to keep your emotions in check. You didnβt want to cry, didnβt want to show to anyone how the thing you were terrified of most was becoming reality. You were standing there, feeling more alone than ever, being forced to accept your fate.
After that day, you kept your word, keeping your distance from johnny. You didnβt text johnny as much, didnβt ask to hang out. You told yourself it was for the best, that he didnβt need you in his life anymore, not when he had jihoon.
But every day that passed without hearing from him was like a knife twisting in your chest.
Johnny didnβt notice the distance, or if he did he didnβt care enough to reach out.
But everyone else saw it.
At hangouts, on campus, or wherever else your friend group went.
They all looked at you with so much pity and you hated it. All you wanted to do was forget johnny.
So much so, that you ended up skipping you monthly hangouts, stopped answering your phone, and stopped coming to campus all together.
Your friends started to get worried, constantly coming to check up on you, bringing you food if you hadnβt eaten, or just being there for you if you needed a shoulder to cry on.
But it didnβt help, nothing helped.
He was your sun, your constant, for years it has been johnny. You watched from afar as he and jihoon seemed to grow closer. Relationship thriving while your friendship withered away along with you, alone and forgotten.
Nights of you lying on your bed, staring at your digital clock, at the same time every night, hoping, even praying, that heβd text you, just like he used to. But the messages never came. Johnny was gone, lost in his new relationship, and you had no place in his life anymore.
For months, you clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, heβd come back. Check up on you, try to catch up, hell, even a text would be okay. That was enough for you. Enough to know that he still cared. Enough to see that you were still his best friend.
False hope of him eventually realising how much you had always been there for him, how much you loved him and him loving you back.
Deep down, you knew the truth. Johnny found his real soulmate this time and he wasnβt coming back.
It hurt. It hurt bad.
Worst part was that you never got the chance to tell him how you felt.
Never confessed the way your heart clenched every time you saw him with someone else, all for the sake of keeping your friendship.
Now shattering as you accept how easily you have been replaced.
The days turned into weeks, the weeks bled into months, and you watched as your best friend, the boy you had secretly loved for so long, slipped further and further away from you. Letting you know how your fate didnβt end with him.
You remained silent, watching him from afar and letting him live his life, even though it tore you apart.
Because you knew that no matter how much you loved him, it would never be enough to make him stay.
βI love you ,β the sentence lingering in your head. Alone in yout room, the words hanging in the empty air as you chose to keep it yourself.
Johnny would never hear those words. The words you so desperately wish you had told him earlier. But deep down, you know that even if he did, all heβd have to say was Iβm sorry and you knew that that's all it would take for you to come running back to him, falling into the same mundane routine of hovering over his shoulder, loving him from a distance.
andβ so, you let him go. knowing that he would never be yours. As much as it hurt to do, you knew it wasnβt healthy to cling on to false hopes of him. Of Johnny. Of the man that you had loved with your entire being.
You had known him longer than you havenβt. And you loved him no matter what.
It crushed you to know that he would never love you the way you loved him. And that was the hardest truth of all, the realization that some people come into your life, and no matter how much you want them to stay, they were never meant to.
Loving him from afar, hovering in the same place, going round and round.
a/n; if you couldnβt tell, this was inspired by the nct u song round and round <3
Hi. We donβt know your parameters for requesting fics :/ I want to request something for Yuta or Renjun but donβt know what youβll want us to ask
I literally write for anything and everything except for like age play/pedos and anything that has to do with vomit or scat.. yuck
You had noticed it all. The way the light in his eyes dimmed while he was looking at you, the way his loving tone slowly started to sound fake and forced. The way heβd avoided your touch like a plague. Youβd noticed it all. But what could you do? You couldnβt lose him. Ten, the love of your life, the one youβd thought youβd be with forever.
Ten felt guilty. He knew how much you loved him, and it crushed him to think about hurting you. But it was also hurting him. It was exhausting loving you. It took too much from him. Heβd started putting you before himself. Making you his first priority.
He couldnβt keep doing this to himself. As much as he loved you, you took to much of him, and gave him so little of you. Maybe itβs just one of those days? The days where he feels like heβs drowning, where he feels like he has nobody to go to but himself. The days where he feels trapped and suffocated.
He soon realized it wasnβt. He was falling out of love with the woman heβd promised everything. And it crushed him.
He loved you, he really did. Just not the way he used to. He cherished you and worshipped the ground you walked on. Gave you everything he had. Body, soul and mind. He just couldnβt take it anymore. It was killing him from the inside out. But he knew it wasnβt fair to lead you on any longer than he had.
He knew it and you knew it. You both knew, as much as you guys had loved each other, sometimes love wasnβt enough.
βI love you.β He said, you could hear how genuine he sounded, but you knew. You knew were this was going.
βI love you too ten, so much, more than you could even knowβ You said, through a broken smile. Your voice cracking on the last word, tears welling up in your eyes.
No words needed to be said. You knew it was over.
βIβm sorryβ
βItβs okay ten, I knew it was coming. It was inevitable. It doesnβt make lessen the blow any more, or any less.β
βIβm sorry it had to be this way. I love you I really do, just not the way I used to.β
βItβs okay, I saw it coming. Itβs for the best. I donβt want you to keep hurting yourself for me.β
Truth be told, you didnβt want him to leave. You were selfish. You love him too much to let go. Deep down you want the best for him, you know that him staying with you isnβt, but the situation speaks louder. Sometimes love really isnβt enough.
He slowly stood up, walked around the table, and pulled you into a hug as you cried into his shoulder.
βMaybe in another universe we couldβve worked. I love you ten. To the moon and back.β
He smiled as he felt tears he didnβt even know where there had started to drip onto your shoulder.
βMaybe Y/N. I wish we couldβve worked out I really do.β
βI knowβ
βI guess this is goodbye?β He said as he pulled away.
His heart ached for you, it did, but he knew and so did you, that this was for the best.
βYeah.β And for the last time you said it. βI love you.β
