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wherevermyway · 3 years

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i just want you to know who i am. // binchan // oneshot // 18+

pairing: bang chan x seo changbin | bang chan x hwang hyunjin (mentioned) rating: explicit | 18+ ⚠ POTENTIAL TW: READ WITH CAUTION! ⚠ tags/warnings: graphic depictions of violence, transphobia/misgendering, trans male character, internalised homophobia, implied rape / non-con mention, suicidal thoughts, unhealthy relationships, explicit sexual content, slurs (like, two). word count: 8,229 also on AO3!

originally published: 31 october 2020

Bang Chan forced himself through almost three decades of shoving himself into the wrong box, being uncomfortably forced into whatever roles society deemed worthy for him. It doesn't surprise most people when he comes out as trans, but it bothers his boyfriend, Hwang Hyunjin, the most. Hyunjin is outwardly outspoken about Chan, too afraid of being labelled as gay when his boyfriend comes out, and he constantly lets Chan know this: talking down to him, misgendering him, calling him slurs, and deadnaming him. One day, Chan has enough. If nobody was going to accept him, what was the fucking point? He fully intends on taking his life one night as he angrily, desperately rushes to the bridge that overlooks the Han River.

He plans on it, that is, until a complete stranger comes up and saves his life. Literally.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

“I’m not gonna be fucking gay, alright?” A lanky blond man says with a scoff, aggressively carding his fingers through his hair as he nervously paces back and forth. “Look, Chun-hwa, I—“

“It’s Chan. Please, Hyunjin, I keep telling you, stop calling me that name. It’s not who I am.”

“Whatever,” the man grumbles. “You know what it’s gonna be like if the guys find out? If they think my girlfriend suddenly thinks she’s a dude?”

The brunette on the couch sighs, dipping his head into his hands. “Hyunjin, you knew. You’ve known for years. I don’t know why, all of a sudden, the medication is what’s causing problems. You handled my top surgery.” His voice breaks as he curls into himself, trying to hide from the situation at hand, make himself small. “I’ve tried to start this so many times, to tell you I was finally starting the medication, but I was afraid you’d react this way.”

“Chun-hwa, this is bullshit.” Hyunjin gritted through his teeth, deliberately using the wrong name again, which called Chan to wince. “I told you,” he threw his hands in the air and raised his voice, “I’m not gonna be labelled as some stupid homo for dating a fucking tranny. The guys are gonna fuckin’ kill me if they find out you’re not just a tomboy or some shit.”

Chan bites his lip back, his face scowling into a frown. “Hyunjin!” He shouts, finally snapping. “Why the fuck do you care more about what they think, versus how I feel? This isn’t something I can choose. If I could just live my life as a normal, heterosexual woman, I totally would. Trust me.” A deep sigh escapes his lips as he shakes his head. “Life isn’t that easy, though. I’m never gonna be that woman you want me to be, because I was never a woman to begin with.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes and pads off into the kitchen, digging around the refrigerator. He pulls out a bottle of soju and chugs nearly half of it in one go. Chan gets up, following him into the kitchen. He stands in the entryway, folding his arms as he watches Hyunjin. “Stuffing this down with alcohol isn’t gonna make you feel better in the long run. It won’t make it go away, even temporarily.”

“Fuck you,” Hyunjin grumbles, taking another swig from the bottle, and another one, until the bottle is totally empty. His face winces and he tosses the bottle into the sink, causing it to crash and chip, a couple shards of green glass flying upwards, some ricocheting and landing on the floor. He angrily opens the fridge again, grabbing a can of beer and chugging it. “I just want my friends to think I’m normal, that I’m fine, that I’m not stuck with some…”

Hyunjin pauses and the air grows tense. He nervously looks at Chan, then quickly darts his eyes to the wall, looking as if he was desperately trying to bore a hole into it. Hyunjin was about to say something he knew that Chan would hate, and he still had some semblance of respect to stop himself. Some, but not much.

“Say it.” Chan’s voice is dark, but calm. He knew he wasn’t going to like whatever Hyunjin was going to say, but he knew it was coming. Chan didn’t expect Hyunjin to actually say anything horribly offensive, but he tensed as Hyunjin took a long swig from the can in his hands. The blond man took a couple steps closer to Chan, his boozy breath nauseatingly permeating the air as he sticks his bony finger into Chan’s shoulder.

“Stuck with a fucking queer.” Hyunjin sneers, his voice quiet, but colder than ice. He gets closer into Chan’s face, staring him down, then moves back a bit and spits on his feet.

Chan sarcastically scoffs, turning on his heel and making his way towards the front door. “I can’t believe I’ve dealt with you for so goddamned long, Hyunjin.” There was no way he could handle such shitty behaviour anymore. He couldn’t do it, he wouldn’t. Hyunjin was the last person he had, and he just broke the last straw that was keeping Chan sane.

“Where are you going?” Hyunjin slurs after Chan, arms wide open in the air, beer sloshing to the floor from his open can.

“I’m done.” He lets out a nervous chuckle and grabs his keys from off of the wall rack, slipping a pair of flat trainers on. “I’m done with you, I’m done with this, I’m done with everything.”

“Chun-hwa—“

“Stop calling me that!” Chan shouts, grabbing a thick, heavy boot off of the shoe rack and angrily tossing it directly at Hyunjin’s head, the heel hitting him square in the forehead. The collision causes him to lose the grip from his can of beer, making it topple to the ground and spill its remnants all over the floor, the echoing ringing loudly in the apartment. “I’m not gonna be a fucking problem for you anymore, so just be happy for fucking once. You’ll never have to see me again, alright? Go meet some woman who won’t be just another ‘fucking queer’.”

Hyunjin grabs his forehead, staring at Chan for a moment, his face dumbstruck and mouth agape.

“Are you going to say something? Anything at all? Are you going to think about anyone but yourself and your shitty fucking friends? Think about your fucking boyfriend for once?” Chan shakes his head, but Hyunjin offers nothing in response. Chan desperately wanted his boyfriend to say something, but, like always, nothing came to fruition. He was always the one that had to put in the effort, and when things got tough, Hyunjin did nothing. He never did anything. “Fine,” the older man scoffs, grumbling under his breath and opening the door, letting it practically fly off of the hinge. “I sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, honestly hope you die alone, Hyunjin. Alone, cold, and in a bed of regret.”

Hyunjin continues to say nothing as Chan slams the door shut and runs down the stairwell, tears spilling from his eyes. Why nobody accepted him was beyond him. He told his parents two years ago, and he hasn’t heard from them since. He told his close friends, and they treated him like a leper, like he carried some sort of terrifying, incurable, transmittable disease. To be dismissed by someone like his boyfriend after all of these years hurt the most, honestly. Hyunjin was the only person he had left, even though their relationship was nothing more than toxic sludge.

None of this mattered. Soon, none of it would matter anymore, not to Chan, not to anyone. Nothing fucking mattered.

Tears sting, burning like battery acid, as they roll down Chan’s face involuntarily. He gazes far down the Han River, watching the city lights dance on the lapping waves, wiping the tears off of his cheeks. He takes in a deep, long sniffle, and digs his fingernails into the palms of his hands. A small tremble kept coursing through his veins, causing him to lightly shake as he stared. He just needed a little bit more courage. He could do this. He would drift his way down the Han River, and then he wouldn’t be anyone’s problem anymore, he just needed the courage to fucking do it.

The soft scent of acrid mint and floral tobacco pulls Chan from his thoughts. A shorter man with neatly trimmed, dark black hair is suddenly standing next to him, offering him a burning white stick. “You look like you could use this,” the man exhales, a puff of smoke escaping his lungs, deliberately rolling up through his nose. They didn’t make eye contact, but there was a form of nonverbal exchange going on between them. “Nobody comes out to the Seongsu Bridge at three in the morning with good intentions. Wanna talk about it?”

Chan gasps, a bit flabbergasted. He eyes the cigarette, then mutters a hushed “fuck it” under his breath, taking it and pulling a long drag off of it. “Oh, shit,” he sputters through coughs. “God, that’s bad.”

“Sorry,” the other man scoffs, sticking another cigarette between his lips. He pulls out a black lighter, flicking the flimsy metal dial a few times until white smoke billowed up from his mouth. “I was in your shoes once — well, maybe not exactly where you are, but close enough — a couple years ago. I sat on the handrail and waited. Not sure what I was waiting for, exactly, but I was waiting.” He sighs and scratches his forehead, turning to look towards, but not directly at, Chan. “There was a guy that came up and saved my life. He just came to talk to me, and I realized that this was a stupid, permanent way to fix a temporary problem. My job, and losing it, wasn’t my entire personality, even though society made it seem that way.”

Chan lets the cigarette burn between his fingers, transfixed in the way the white smoke softly danced its way up into the sky, eventually completely evaporating and disappearing. “My existence is a mistake.” He didn’t mean to be so blunt about it, but it fell from his lips before he could really think about it. “My family hates me, my friends think I’m diseased, and my boyfriend,” he scoffs, bringing the cigarette to his mouth and takes in a deep inhale, “I guess he’s my ex-boyfriend, now. He’s more concerned about his appearance to his friends and what they think about him compared to what I actually think and feel.”

The mysterious man cocks his head to the side briefly and offers a noncommittal grunt. “Sounds like ‘ex’ is a good title for him, then.”

A soft chuckle puffs out from Chan’s lips. “Yeah, you’re right. He’s not a good person for a lot of shitty reasons; should’ve left him years ago.” They sit there for a few minutes, letting their cigarettes burn between their fingertips and eventually die out. “I don’t get it, man.” Chan tosses the end of his cigarette over the railing, watching it fall down towards the river, slowly getting smaller and smaller, until it’s completely invisible. Gone. Lost forever.

“Get what?”

Chan’s eyes glimmer as he looks up towards the sky, letting his hands drape over the fencing of the bridge, dancing so close to where the promise of eternal comfort lie ahead of him. “Why do people have such a fucking problem with what makes someone else happy if it doesn’t affect them, you know?” He finally turns his head to look at the man next to him. They make eye contact and just stare at each other for a moment, letting their emotions communicate nonverbally.

There was a layer of pain behind the stranger’s eyes, almost like he understood the pain and helplessness that Chan was feeling, all without saying a word. The man sticks an arm out, presenting an open hand. “Seo Changbin. I don’t have the answer to your question, but I suppose you’d at least wanna know my name.”

Chan looks down, then back up to Changbin’s eyes, grabbing his hand with a firm grasp. “Bang Chan. Nice to meet you, Changbin.”

The two men smile at each other warmly, keeping their hands grasped together for a moment too long, but neither of them react negatively. “I know we just met, but,” Changbin says, softly tugging at Chan’s hand, “there’s a coffee shop not too far from here that I love going to early in the morning, since there’s never anyone there and the coffee actually tastes good.”

Chan doesn’t stop the man from pulling him along, doesn’t let go of his soft, warm hand. A gentle smile slowly grows upon his face. When was the last time someone was so nice to him, anyways? “Alright, that sounds like a plan.” He might have come here to die, but he was walking away feeling, ironically, more alive than ever.

The two guys sit at a dimly lit table near the entrance of the cafe, inhaling the aroma of freshly-brewed pour over coffee. Everything suddenly seemed more vibrant since Changbin literally pulled Chan away from the brink of death. Colours were vividly radiant, scents were more prominent, the lights were brighter, uncomfortably so.

“Hey, Chan,” Changbin says, bringing the clear mug up to his face and taking a soft sip of the warm coffee, steam enveloping his face. “I wanna ask you something, if that’s alright.”

Chan drops a cube of sugar into his coffee and aimlessly stirs it around with a tiny spoon, gently breaking up the cube and watching it slowly dissolve. “Sure, sure, what’s up?” He never liked coffee. Should’ve ordered the tea, he briefly pondered, watching the liquid swirl.

Changbin looks away, staring out the window, watching the morning passersby move with purpose down the sidewalk. “You said your existence is a mistake.” The words cause Chan to look up at Changbin, whose eyes flit back from the window to make eye contact. He dips his head down and to the side a bit. “Why is that? Why do you think you’re a mistake?”

“Oh,” the older man bites his cheek, breaking eye contact and clearing his throat. “I just…” He wasn’t sure how to answer that, grazing his thumb against the indentations of the spoon’s handle. “I wasn’t born right,” he sighs, but doesn’t elaborate.

“You weren’t ‘born right’?” Changbin presses, setting his mug down on the saucer in front of him, folding his hands together and resting his chin on his fingers. “I know it’s probably a heavily-detailed, incredibly personal question, but, if you don’t mind elaborating, what do you mean by that?”

Chan brings the cup of coffee to his lips with his right hand, taking a long, deep drink of the lightly bitter, vanilla-scented liquid. For not liking coffee, he had to admit that it wasn’t actually bad. He sets the glass back down and looks directly at Changbin, taking in a long, deep inhale, and makes sure to speak in a hushed voice. “I was born a woman, biologically speaking. ‘Assigned female at birth’ is the more correct term, that’s what people keep telling me.” Chan studies Changbin’s face, which doesn’t falter, so he continues. “Neither my family, nor my friends really tried to understand it. They all abandoned me immediately. My ex, though, was the hardest hit by it. He tried to care for a while, but then he started to call me these terrible things, only worried about how my expression and appearance would affect him and his new friends.” Chan scoffed. “It’s stupid. Not fair. So, I always figured I was a mistake. Everyone treated me like I was a mistake.”

Changbin eyes Chan’s free hand and takes in a deep breath, letting his hand fall directly onto the hand on the table, loosely gripping it. “Chan,” he softly says, soothingly, deliberately looking the older man in the eyes, “you’re not a mistake. Nobody is born a mistake.” The two of them lock eyes and stare at each other, exchanging glances of pain, misery, and understanding. “We just blossom into who we really are, and sometimes, people can’t handle the real, true us. If they can’t handle who we really are, then what’s the fucking point? Why keep them around if it only ends in misery for us, and they lose nothing?”

It had been so long since someone looked at Chan with empathy instead of resentment, and the realization of that caused his stomach to burn uncomfortably. The strange warmth spread across Chan’s abdomen, and he glanced down to Changbin’s hand, then back up to his face. The way they exchanged glances was oddly calming, like Chan could be comfortable telling this stranger almost anything, and he wouldn’t be judged. Changbin made Chan feel alive for the first time in months. Years, actually. For the first time, he didn’t have to try to put on a façade of who he really was; it felt like Changbin accepted him for who he was with a single glance.

“Changbin,” Chan breathed out, knitting his brows together and mustering up the courage to grasp the younger man’s hand a little tighter. “You’re completely right.” The two of them exchanged a glance that spoke more than words could tell. It was an exchange that said ‘I’m broken, but thank you for listening, for trying to understand.’ His eyes started to water, tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyelids. It hurt, but it was paradoxically relieving for him to feel this way.

“I’ve got a lot of problems, too,” Changbin sighed, but deliberately grabbed Chan’s hand a bit tighter. “It’s hard enough to come out as gay here. The guy that saved me? We became close friends, but he quickly regretted it when I misinterpreted the signals he gave off and I told him I had feelings for him.” His eyes rolled down to an insignificant stain on the table. “It’s been nearly a year, and I still haven’t heard from him, even though he saved my life. I thought he really cared, but he showed his true colours and then he was gone.” The younger man took a long sip from his mug, and stared into the ripples of the coffee as he set it back down.

“I’m sorry, man,” Chan sighed with sincerity, rubbing the back of Changbin’s bony hand with his thumb, but he did not relent. “Fuck him. Fuck him for not accepting you. Fuck him for not being a good person when you needed him most, not respecting you enough to at least politely turn you down.”

Changbin met Chan’s eyes again, this time with more determination, and he let out a quick huff before finishing the warm beverage in his mug. They stared at each other for a few moments, and it was like there was a silent agreement between them.

“Are you done with your coffee?” Changbin asked, but the true meaning of his question sounded more like “do you want to go home with me?”

The ‘yes’ that Chan whispered was a double entendre: it was a ‘yes’ to the question about his coffee, and a ‘yes’ to Changbin’s unspoken question.

“Honestly,” Chan muttered, inanely scratching the handle of the mug with his thumbnail, “I’m not a huge fan of coffee. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not bad, I just didn’t wanna say no.”

Changbin pulls Chan up by the hand as he makes his way to his feet. He steps around the table and stops right up next to Chan’s ear and whispers. “Don’t make yourself smaller or less than for anyone. Ever.”

It doesn’t take long for them to make their way back to Changbin’s apartment, only a block and a half away from the cafe. In fact, if Chan had actually looked out the living room window, he’d be able to see the streetlight of the cafe and the spot where Changbin saved him. Instead, he was too busy letting Changbin pin him up against the kitchen wall. The soft light of the start of daybreak illuminated the kitchen, spilling rays of orange and purple onto both of them.

“You look incredible,” Changbin whined, biting at Chan’s bottom lip. “Handsome. Gorgeous.” He panted, whined, dragged his fingers through Chan’s hair. “I want to drown myself in you, Chan, drown myself in you if you’ll let me.”

Chan forgets how to breathe for a moment, the tightness in his abdomen causing him to feel lightheaded. He was nervous, but the burning feeling of desire overwhelmed the nervousness. “Changbin,” he whines, allowing his teeth to graze against the bottom lip of the man in front of him.

“I only want to do what you’re comfortable with,” Changbin whispers, trailing his right hand down from Chan’s neck to his waist, finger hooking in the tip of his hipbone, causing the older man to buck into him involuntarily. “I want you to tell me to stop if you need me to. But I also want to hear you long for me tonight, to cry out my name, to piss off the neighbours.”

Something about Changbin’s words drove Chan insane. “I trust you,” he whines. He shouldn’t be so trusting after knowing someone for maybe a couple of hours, but there was something about this stranger that made Chan feel more comfortable in his own skin than his ex-boyfriend of several years did. He did, after all, save him from jumping off of a bridge. All bets were off for now; Chan had nothing to lose. “It’s fine, it’s fine, I want you, Changbin. Please.”

That’s all it takes. Changbin brings both of his hands to Chan’s hips and effortlessly, somehow, lifts Chan up off of the the wall. Chan wraps his legs around Changbin’s waist, dragging his tongue against Changbin’s bottom lip. The two of them haphazardly make their way towards Changbin’s bedroom together, lazily pressing their lips together.

“I want you, Bin,” Chan whines, peeling his hoodie and shirt off as soon as he hits the plush of the comforter. “Changbin. Please, please, please. I need you.” The pitch black enveloping him in darkness gave him an extra air of confidence, making him feel like he could fully lose himself within the moment as he ran his fingers down his torso, taking an extra moment to scan his fingertips against the scars on his chest, hoping Changbin wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t linger too long on his imperfections.

Changbin grumbles as he straddles the older man, pressing his lips against Chan’s neck. “Patience, baby,” he whispers, peeling his own shirt off, then quickly returning his teeth to Chan’s soft flesh. He lets his hands run up against Chan’s abdomen, paying special attention to how exactly Chan responded to each soft, gentle touch Changbin offered. He was so attentive, making sure that nothing was too out of place, making sure that nothing was too uncomfortable.

“Ah, wait, Changbin.” There it was, the tone of Chan’s voice. That was the protest that the younger man was waiting for. “Are you sure you want to do something like this with me? I’m not really…” Chan’s voice trailed off in discouragement. “I’m not a real—“

“Shut up,” Changbin counter-protested, his voice breathy and slightly annoyed, pressing his lips against Chan’s. “Don’t you dare try to tell me you’re ‘not a real man’ or some dumb shit like that.”

“But,” Chan whined, subconsciously rutting his hips up into Changbin’s pelvis. “It’s true, I’m not.”

“Chan,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes, “please, just shut up. You’re as real of a man as you identify yourself to be.” He pressed a soft kiss up against the older man’s warm cheek, then nuzzled his forehead against it. “Don’t invalidate yourself like that, because it’s just going to make you feel like shit. If you don’t want to do this, then tell me. If you’re just going to invalidate yourself, I don’t want to hear it and I won’t do this.”

The brunette swallowed hard, his eyes nervously scanning the ceiling as he felt the younger man’s breath on his neck. “I don’t want you to stop,” he whispers, “I’m just nervous. It’s been so long, and I don’t like…” His voice trails off and he sighs. “Honestly, if we’re gonna do this, can you just, fuck — wow, this is awkward to ask — but, can you just fuck me like a normal dude? Pretend that all of the frontal anatomy just doesn’t exist? I don’t want to even think about it.” He shakes his head. “It’s too much.”

Changbin pulls back, bringing his hands to the sides of Chan’s face and deliberately making eye contact with him. “Of course. I told you, anything to make you comfortable. I’ll go slowly. I’ll admit,” Chan sees the whites of his eyes shift, as if he was looking away for a moment, “I’ve never been with someone that’s trans. So if I do something wrong, tell me.”

Chan sighs, not out of irritation, but relief. “Of course. Can we do this now?”

Changbin reaches over Chan, pulling his nightstand’s drawer open. He grabs a condom and a bottle of lube, then sits back on his heels. “Have you ever done this before?”

Finally, a bit of confidence, likely from the darkness of the room hiding his body, rushes through Chan, and he offers a bit of a cocky smirk. “I ride dick like it’s my last day on earth, every time. Trust me,” he sits up and grabs Changbin by the waist, “I’ve done this before. I’ve done a handful of freaky things before. You’d be surprised to know what I haven’t done, honestly.”

A breathy gasp leaves Changbin’s lips and he swallows hard. That wasn’t the answer he was expecting, not in the slightest. “You w-what?”

After some careful preparation and stretching, it doesn’t take long for Chan to take Changbin fully inside of him, causing the younger man beneath him to let out a small whine. “Fucking tight,” he whimpers, digging his fingernails into Chan’s hips. “You feel incredible. So good.”

Chan smirks. “I told you.” He puts both hands on the bed, on either side of Changbin’s neck, allowing him to roll his hips up and down slowly, in controlled movements. “I know what I’m doing.”

“I can, ah,” Changbin tightly closes his eyes and rolls his head into the pillow behind him, “fuck, Chan, I can feel that.”

The brunette dips his head down, pressing his lips to the younger man’s. Changbin responds by grabbing the back of Chan’s neck, pulling him in closer, and he aggressively jams his tongue in between his lips. They explore each others’ mouths with purpose, both of them still faintly tasting like coffee and menthol cigarettes.

“Changbin,” Chan whines, drawling out the last syllable of his name.

A grin is painted upon the younger man’s face at the sound of his name. “Say it again. It sounds so fucking good when you say my name like that.”

Chan complies. He complies repeatedly, grinding up against Changbin’s pelvis, his length filling him and causing all of the nerves in his body to light up. He’d never fucked like this before, nothing so passionate or romantic in his life. All of his experiences were lacklustre with Hyunjin, who never fucked him the way he wanted to be fucked. It was all about Hyunjin.

Tonight, it was all about Chan. It was all about how well he and Changbin blended together, and Chan couldn’t get enough of it.

A week and a half passes, and Chan can’t bring himself to leave Changbin’s apartment. The younger man doesn’t mind, of course, he’s happy to give Chan as much time as he needs to figure out what exactly he needs to do.

It was a bit awkward at first, since Changbin’s apartment only has one bedroom, and Changbin doesn’t keep a large enough couch for either of them to sleep on. “We’ve already slept with each other,” Chan pondered aloud one day while he was scrubbing some dishes in the sink, “why bother not sleeping in the same bed?”

Their relationship dynamic was strange, but it worked. They had spent several nights staying up far too late, going for walks downtown and talking about the complexities that life had to offer. Chan would link arms with Changbin, they would share a cigarette with each other, and all of Chan’s problems would just come spilling out.

Things came so naturally to both of them. They would usually get to the well-lit touristy spot in Cheonggyecheon, staring down the river, watching people meander about and the lights illuminating the ripples in the water. That’s where Chan would open up more and more about himself and the horrible experiences he had with his family, friends, and Hyunjin.

“You know,” Changbin took a long pull from the cigarette in his fingertips, then let the smoke lazily escape his lips, “if I ever meet this guy, I’m gonna beat the shit out of him.”

“Changbin,” Chan pressed, half-serious.

“I’m not kidding, dude,” the black-haired man cocked his head, looking up at Chan over the rim of his glasses. “He has the balls to constantly misgender you, treat you as less-than, and now you’re telling me he would get drunk and beat you for fun? What the fuck is wrong with this guy?”

Chan sighed, taking the cigarette from between Changbin’s fingers and putting it between his lips. “I know, I know. It’s bad timing, but,” his voice trails off, and he turns his head to look down the river, “I need to go back and get my stuff from his apartment. My legal paperwork and some clothes and stuff.”

“I’m going with you.” It’s a statement. Changbin doesn’t bother asking. He grips the handrail with both hands, his knuckles turning white. “I’m not letting you be there alone.”

“He’ll be at work, Bin.”

“I don’t care,” he spits out, a bit harsher than he intended. “He’s violent. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone in a space where you can’t easily get away from him.”

Chan bites back a retort; he knew that Changbin was right. The two of them stare off into the dark water for a few moments, until Chan deeply sighs. “Fine. We can go tomorrow around noon. I’ll text him tomorrow and tell him we’re coming over before we show up, just so he knows.”

“That’s a stupid idea, Chan.” Changbin grits his teeth and scowls.

“I know. But it’s the right thing to do.”

Changbin scoffs. “That’s typical of you, dove, always looking out for the greater good before taking yourself into consideration.”

Chan squints his eyes in confusion. “‘Dove’?”

“Oh,” Changbin chews on his cheek. “I didn’t even think about that, it just slipped out. Anyway, you know how there’s tales in the West about how seeing a dove with an olive branch is a symbol of peace?”

“Yeah, what’s that gotta do with me?”

Changbin turns his head towards Chan and smiles softly, light reflecting off of his glasses. “You’re too good for people like me, and especially Hyunjin. You’re calming, peaceful. Besides,” he reaches over and grabs Chan’s hand, interlacing their fingers together, “it sounds cooler than ‘baby’ or some other overused pet name, yeah?”

Chan chuckled and smiled, looking down at their hands, how well they fit together, how right it seemed. It had only been a week and a half, but he was starting to fall for this man.

Changbin grips the steering wheel of Chan’s car tightly with his left hand, softly grabbing Chan’s leg with his right hand. “Are you sure about this?”

“I need my belongings, Changbin.” Chan tried to sound confident as he stared at the car parked in front of them, but his voice wavers a bit. “I can’t keep wearing the same things and I can’t keep living off of you. It’s been nearly two weeks.”

Changbin sighs as he turns to look at Chan. “I’m going in there with you.”

“I can do this myself, Changbin, I promise.”

“I told you yesterday and I’m not changing my mind. He’s hurt you before, Chan.”

Chan bites his lip and looks down to his knees, subconsciously grabbing Changbin’s hand. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not asking. He could be there, react poorly, and try and kill you.”

Chan sighs, looking up at Changbin with tears in his eyes. “Fine, fine,” he relents, “just be careful. If he’s here, Hyunjin has a temper and he’s not gonna like this.”

“To be frank,” Changbin lets go of the steering wheel, undoing his seatbelt. “I don’t give a shit what he thinks, dove. I don’t know if this is the real thing or not, but I’m gonna protect you.” He lifts himself up off of the seat a bit, grabbing Chan’s face and pulling him in closely. He brushes his lips softly up against the older man’s, only for a brief moment, before pulling back and staring at him with purpose. “You deserve to be happy and safe.”

Chan furrows his brows as he stares at Changbin. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I care.”

“But why?”

“I don’t know, dude, it’s a gut feeling.�� The two of them sit there and stare at each other for a second, then Chan softly laughs.

“I’ll let you have that. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and he won’t even be here.”

“I certainly hope not.”

Chan turned his key in the door, unlocking it and pushing it open. Unfortunately for them, Hyunjin was there, and he was furious. The blond hastily undoes his necktie and lackadaisically discards it on the floor, reeling as he scowls at Chan, glowering at him.

“Chun-hwa, I had to leave work early for this shit.” Hyunjin’s voice was laden with venom. He took a couple of heavy footsteps towards Chan, gripping his fist tightly, until he saw Changbin step in to the side of Chan and he froze in his tracks. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He scoffs, his face wrinkling up in disbelief. “Who the fuck is this? You think you can just bring some manwhore into my house?”

“Back off,” Changbin dryly says, stepping in front of Chan and adjusting his shoulders, rolling them back. Posturing. “Chan is here to collect his things. You give him any problems, and you’ll be answering to my fists.”

Hyunjin looks at both of them and lets out a throaty laugh. “Are you fucking kidding, shortie? I could kick your ass just by looking at you funny.”

Changbin cocks an eyebrow up, placing his hands on his hips. A faint smirk curls up on the right side of his face as he slightly turns his head towards Chan, not breaking eye contact with Hyunjin. “Go grab your things. Don’t worry about this string bean-looking asshole.”

“He looks thin, Changbin, but Hyunjin is tough. And fast.” Chan takes a hand and places it on Changbin’s shoulder, but the younger man doesn’t react. He leans in closer, right up to Changbin’s ear, and whispers. “I told you, he’s beaten me senseless before. He’s more of a threat than you’d think.”

“Not worried about it. Go, Chan.” Changbin pops the knuckles of his fingers and rolls his neck around. “Ready to teach this motherfucker a lesson.”

Changbin’s quip causes Hyunjin to roll his eyes and dismissively shake his head. “Yeah, believe it when I see it, shithead.”

Chan takes a moment, contemplating if he should intervene, but he decides against it. He figures that Changbin is a grown adult, and he can make decisions for himself, even if that meant he was potentially going to get his face rearranged. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he whispers, then moves towards the back of the apartment, towards his old bedroom. The bedroom he shared with Hyunjin. The bedroom that caused his heart to drop into the pit of his stomach with every step he took closer and closer to it; old, negative memories resurfacing.

Hyunjin eyes Chan as he walks past. “You’re not just gonna walk past me and pretend like I don’t exist, Chun-hwa.” Changbin’s eyes roll down to Hyunjin’s feet, watching the micro-movements his toes were making. As soon as the side of his right foot twitched, his toes turning towards Chan, Changbin stopped paying attention to whatever nonsense Hyunjin was sputtering off. It was time to move.

He swiftly rushed forward, reaching his left hand out to grab Hyunjin’s collar, winding his right hand back in a tight fist. “What the fuck?” Hyunjin barely had enough time to react before Changbin’s fist collided into his cheekbone, causing the younger man to let out a strained groan. The blond regained his composure, then kneed the black-haired man in the stomach in response, causing him to curl into himself a bit, but he refused to falter.

Changbin’s grip on Hyunjin’s collar loosened only briefly. He reoriented himself upright and grabbed the other side of his collar with his right hand and threw him into the kitchen table just off to the right-hand side. The paraphernalia intricately placed on the table went flying, including a glass vase that clattered to the floor and shattered into what looked like a thousand pieces.

“You fucking dweeb,” Hyunjin grunts against the table, “you can’t do shit to me with those tiny arms.”

“You wanna fucking bet?” Changbin lifts Hyunjin up and rams him back into the table. “Looks like you’re the one in a compromising position here, dude.”

Hyunjin scowls, kicking the older man in the shin to distract him, then reaches up to his hair, grabbing a fistful of it and throwing his free fist into his cheek. “I’m gonna rearrange your fucking face, you prick.”

Chan sucked in some air through his teeth, physically cringing as he heard the men roll around, grumbling and shouting, their fists colliding into each other. He tried so hard to just ignore what was happening behind him. He shakes his head a couple of times before he starts haphazardly throwing his important belongings into some bags.

Hyunjin and Changbin wrestle around a bit more, a couple of fists to the face, a couple of knees to the stomach. Chan tries so hard to ignore the throaty grunts and the sharp cries coming from both of them. He just needed his important documents, his favourite sweatshirt, some clothing. He compromised: the photos of the family and friends that rejected him could stay behind. It would slow him down and he didn’t need that kind of negativity in his life. Not anymore. Not when he knew they weren’t worth the mental energy, when he could fill that negative void with new people that accepted him and loved him for who he was.

Chun-hwa had finally died at the Seongsu Bridge the night he was saved, and a new, revitalized Chan was born from the ashes of the person he used to be. It was time to leave the negativity behind, once and for all. Let it all die in this shitty apartment with the remnants of the relationship with his shitty ex-boyfriend.

“Wait a minute. I’ve seen you before, I remember your name now.” Changbin wipes some blood off from under his lip, stumbling backwards a bit. “I finally realized who you are.” He punctuates his sentence with a sharp, sarcastic laugh. “How ironic.”

Hyunjin’s eyes grow wide as he holds the back of his hand up against his bleeding nose.

“That gay bar down in Itaewon. You hit on my friend, who was very much taken, and so were you.” A nervous scoff comes from Hyunjin. “Felix wanted nothing to do with you, but you kept hitting on him. Unlike you, Felix was, and still is, happily committed and out to his partner. Yet, you treat your ex-boyfriend like shit because you didn’t like him identifying as a man. If I recall correctly, it was because you didn’t want your friends to think you were gay. Interesting, isn’t it?”

Chan steps out of the bedroom, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. “What did you just say? Did I just hear you correctly?” His voice sounds pained and confused. Changbin turns around for a moment, surprised to hear Chan come up from behind him.

This was his opportunity. Hyunjin grabs a thin, hardcover book off of the table from behind him, blood spilling down from his nose, and he runs up to Changbin and brings the book crashing into the side of his face. There was enough force to cause the older man to fall to the ground with a sharp cry. Hyunjin angrily throws the book at the wall in front of him and stares over at Chan as Changbin brings a hand to his face and whines.

“I’m not letting you leave this fucking place alive. You hear me?” Hyunjin’s voice is dark, but flat. All of the light in his eyes had evaporated, and Chan froze in place. He had been here before, seen that look in Hyunjin’s eyes. He so desperately wanted to run, hide in the washroom or the bedroom, but he was frozen in place, like someone had glued his feet to the floor.

“Hyunjin,” Chan softly whines, bringing his hands up to cover his face, to hide away from the impending attack he was about to receive, “Hyunjin, please, don’t do this.”

“Shut up, you stupid cunt.” Hyunjin spits out, taking a slow, deliberate step towards Chan. “Cheating on me with some stupid gay dude. Running away from me for almost two weeks. How fucking dare you bring another man into my house?”

Changbin shakes his head and snaps back to reality, managing to grab Hyunjin’s ankle before he walks out of reach.

“The fuck?” The blond stops, looking down to Changbin and he shakes his leg, but is unable to free himself from the smaller man’s grasp.

“I’m stronger than you. You’re going to regret treating Chan like shit.” That’s all Changbin says before he musters all of his strength to pull Hyunjin to the ground. The younger man loses his footing, colliding down to the ground with a thick thud. Chan pulls his hands away from his face, and his mouth drops as he watches the two of them.

Hyunjin may have been terrifying to Chan when he was angry, but seeing Changbin like this was petrifying. The black-haired man’s expression was flat, calculated, and a deep bruise was starting to form where Hyunjin crashed the book into his face. He crawled over Hyunjin, lifting his head up by his blond hair with both of his hands, then rapidly brought it down to the floor, a loud thud echoing throughout the room.

Hyunjin cries out as he rolls his head around on the floor. “Stop it,” he sputters out, “just fucking stop!”

“How many times did Chan say that when you beat the shit out of him?” Changbin’s voice is quiet, calm. Too calm for this situation.

“W-what?”

Changbin lets out an irritated huff and raises his voice. “How many times did Chan beg for you to stop? Every time you beat him? Every time you assaulted him? Wait a second.” He lifts his head to look at Chan, his eyes piercing him with a strategic glance. “You mentioned something a few days ago that concerned me, but I never pressed the issue. Did this fucking prick ever rape you, Chan?”

Chan’s eyes widen and he looks down at the floor. “I…” His voice trails off, clearly avoiding the question.

“Chan.”

“Fuck you.” Hyunjin’s voice is garbled and he spits some blood into Changbin’s face. “She’s a fucking slut and isn’t worth your time.”

Changbin somehow ignores Hyunjin’s prodding, letting the bloody saliva drip down his cheek. “Chan. Answer me.”

A tear slips down Chan’s face as he shrinks into himself. Memories started to come flooding back of nights where Hyunjin got too drunk. The nights where Chan would try and correct Hyunjin’s terrible behaviour, how he’d quietly plead with him to refer to him as the correct name and gender. The nights where he’d wake up and Hyunjin would be there, hovering over him, clearly frustrated with Chan not wanting to sleep with him and —

“Chan!” Changbin’s voice is angry, loud. It’s distracting enough to bring Chan back to the situation at hand.

He slowly looks up, scanning every detail on the floor, trailing his way up to Hyunjin. There was no emotion on Chan’s face, nothing in his eyes, as he stared at the bloodied blond. “Don’t kill him, Changbin.” His voice is soft.

Weak.

Tired.

A beat passes and the implication of Chan’s words causes Changbin’s nostrils to flare in fury, and Hyunjin’s eyes grow wide, staring at Chan as if he were betrayed. “You fucking—“ Hyunjin tries to speak, but Changbin brings his fist against the younger man’s face. He does this several times, before Hyunjin goes limp, and blood spills from his nose and his face.

Changbin breathes heavily as he stares down at the bloodied man beneath him. His entire torso trembles from adrenalin, fear, anger, and shock.

“Is he alive?” Chan manages to squeak out.

“I…” Changbin shakes his head rapidly, trying to bring himself back to the moment. “Yeah, he’ll be fine. I think. He’s still breathing.”

Chan’s hands shake as he anxiously wrings his hands. “What the fuck was that, Changbin? That was more than a fist fight. More than protection.”

“He hurt you.” Changbin looks up at Chan, his expression no longer confident. Strangely enough, he looked terrified. “Chan, he abused you. He raped you, for fuck's sake. What else was I supposed to do?”

Chan bit his lip and folded his arms, not in irritation, but as if he was trying to comfort himself. “Have you done this before?”

“This badly?” Changbin looks down to Hyunjin and brings himself to his feet. “Only once. I had to defend myself against a few guys behind a bar once. I had to protect Felix. You learn to protect yourself against a world that doesn’t want you to exist. Against people that want you dead just because you’re happy. It’s why I’m so adamant about working out.” He looks up to Chan, but doesn’t advance towards him.

Chan is aggressively chewing on his lips, pulling dead skin off of them and causing his lips to drip blood. He watches Hyunjin’s head tilt to the side, blood dripping down his face, his lips and eyes starting to swell. “Changbin, that was fucking terrifying.”

“I’m so sorry, Chan. I didn’t mean to make this situation worse.”

Chan breathes in deeply, then gets enough courage to to look up at Changbin. “No, no,” his voice is shaky, “Hyunjin deserved it. Just, please, promise me you’ll never do that again unless you absolutely have to.”

Changbin sarcastically huffs. “I don’t like doing this, Chan. I just get protective over people I care about.” His eyes soften, tears starting to well up. “I’ll do anything to protect you, dove.”

Chan doesn’t say anything. He takes a shaky step forward, then another, his feet shuffling forward enough until he collides against Changbin’s chest. “Don’t hug me back,” he says as the younger man lifts his arms, “you’ve got blood all over your hands.”

The men stand in front of the kitchen sink, hastily cleaning most the blood off of their arms and faces. Chan gives Changbin a loose hoodie to cover his bloodied shirt. “Guess it’s a good thing I wore black pants today, huh?” Changbin’s quip causes Chan to roll his eyes.

They grab the hastily packed bags and two boxes and bring them down to Chan’s car.

“Is that everything you want?” Changbin slams the back door of the car a bit harder than he intended to.

“Yeah. I just wanna get out of here and shower. Get out of here before Hyunjin wakes up. Well, hopefully he wakes up.” Chan shakes his arms, trying to rid the nerves that were built up inside of them. “I want to go home with you and curl up in bed and forget all about this.”

Changbin says nothing as he walks up to Chan, he brings a hand up to his face, softly stroking his cheek with his thumb. They tiredly, longingly gaze into each others’ eyes for a few moments. “‘Home’, dove?”

“What?” Chan cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“You said you want to go home with me.”

“Oh,” Chan bites his sore lip and softly smiles. “I suppose I did, didn’t I?” Changbin smiles in response and nods his head once. “We’re doing this backwards, you know. We’re not even dating, and we’ve already fucked. You beat the shit out of my ex, rightfully so. And now I’m going to be staying with you, almost like I’m moving in with you. You even have a cutesy pet name for me.”

Changbin lifts himself up on to his toes and gently, briefly presses his lips against Chan’s. He pulls back, bouncing back on to his heels. “I just want you to be safe and comfortable. Even if we’re just roommates. Even if it ends in heartbreak. Just knowing I got you out of such a horrible place is good enough for me. Knowing I saved your life and helped give you a second chance, a chance to actually breathe, to be comfortable with who you are. That’s all I need.”

A deeper smile slowly creeps up on Chan’s face as he blushes and looks away from Changbin. He sucks in a quick breath, then shyly, quickly gives the black-haired man’s forehead a soft kiss. “You’re my nightlight.”

“What?” Changbin cocks his head to the side and his eyebrows pull together in confusion.

“I’m your dove, your sign of peace. You’re my nightlight: guiding me through the darkness. Keeping me safe from the unknown.” Chan bends down and quietly whispers something in Changbin’s ear, and it causes his eyes to grow wide.

“Did you just…?” The younger man stutters, his words barely coherent.

Chan smiles, pulling his key fob out of his front pocket. “Let’s go home, Binnie.”

#skz fics #serious #trans male character #binchan #bang chan x seo changbin #seo changbin x bang chan #chan x changbin #changbin x chan #wherevermyway

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skyeet-the-writer · 3 years

Text

soft touches

here is another one of my original works! i spend a while writing this during classes and it really means a lot. it’s quite personal to me bc this is the kind of life i’d want with a s/o, though it is implied to be a boy x girl relationship. hope you like it!

female oc (skyla) x male oc (mason)

summery: life can easily get stressful, but having a loving boyfriend to come home to makes things a lot easier

word count: ~3.09k

warnings: language, insecurities, suggestive mentions, unbearable amounts of fluff

Rain pelted Skyla’s car as she drove home from college. She was absolutely exhausted. She hadn’t slept well the night before because Mason’s insomnia was keeping him up. And when he didn’t sleep, neither did she. But she had classes and band practice after school, which explained why she was coming home at seven thirty at night.

She stopped at the stop sign and hummed along to the song playing from her phone. She was just about home. Hopefully, Mason wasn’t working late. If he was, she might not wait up for him. She’d probably just take a shower, eat something, and go to sleep.

Skyla took a left turn and drove slowly through the neighborhood. It was dark and also pouring rain, so it’s not like anyone was out and about. Still, she had always been a careful driver.

When she pulled into the driveway of the house she shared with her boyfriend and his best friend, she felt her heart flutter at the sight of Mason’s car in it’s spot. She put her car into park and turned her lights and her wipers off. She made sure everything electronic wouldn’t risk getting wet before opening the car door and opening up her umbrella.

She ran through the mud, which was a mistake because her boots got muddy, as well as mud splashing up on her sweatpants. She groaned and fumbled with her key as she held her umbrella with one hand. She finally unlocked the door and walked inside, shaking her umbrella off outside the door before shutting it and locking it again. She took her boots off and put her umbrella by the door before walking out of the mud room, stepping over the wet puddles from other people walking in and out of the house.

“Mase?” she called through the quiet house. She walked into the bedroom first to put her backpack down and saw no sign of him. So she walked into the kitchen and saw him cooking at the stove with his back to her. She smirked and walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around him from behind. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, honey,” Mason replied, stirring whatever was cooking. “How was your day?”

She shrugged, rubbing her thumb on his stomach and giving him a small squeeze. “It was okay. I’m really tired, though.”

“Yeah… sorry for keeping you up last night.”

But Skyla quickly shook her head, saying, “Don’t apologize. It’s okay. I didn’t mind.” She quickly slipped her hands under his hoodie and squeezed around his waist.

“Yeah?” Mason sounded a bit shaky now as Skyla’s hands were beginning to drift downwards.

“Yeah,” she whispered into his ear as best she could. She was around five inches shorter than him. “I really liked it.” The tips of her fingers brushed his jeans.

Mason’s breathing got more uneven and he stopped stirring. “Fuck baby.”

“What?” she asked, her knuckles now under the waistband. “Something the matter?”

But Mason just made a hot, frustrated groan that made heat strike Skyla’s tummy. She was about to reach what she wanted before Mason grabbed her hand and shoved her against the counter, pinning her hands to the stone. “What’s wrong, baby? Your hands were going somewhere they’re not supposed to,” Mason mumbled, his lips inches from hers.

Skyla started to lean forward, but Mason squeezed her wrists and she stopped. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Have you?”

She nodded, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth. “Yeah. All day. You’re really distracting.”

Mason laughed and leaned closer, their noses now brushing. “Can’t I get a kiss first?”

And so she leaned forward and kissed her boyfriend hard. One of his hands drifted up to her throat and he squeezed, earning a whine out of her. He bit her lip and slowly pulled away. His blue eyes were dark and hooded as he looked over her face.

“Pretty,” he said before kissing her again, pushing her hips back against the counter with his own hips. Skyla tried to move her hands, but Mason’s grip tightened and he squeezed harder on her throat for five seconds before letting go completely and moving his hand to tangle into her hair.

When they finally had to pull away, Skyla was hot and blushing. “I have to take a shower.”

“Can I join you?” Mason asked.

“Please.” And he let her go, giving her a smack on the ass as she made her way to the bathroom.

~*~

“I’m glad that Blake isn’t here,” Skyla said after their shower, walking back into the kitchen in Mason’s t-shirt and athletic shorts. “He’s...not here, is he?”

Mason laughed and went back to the stove. Her heart fluttered. “No. If he was here, I wouldn’t have let you be as loud as you were.”

Skyla blushed, turning her head to the side. “Where is he, anyway?”

“On a date with Charlotte,” he answered, turning the stove off.

“When am I gonna be able to meet her?” she asked, swinging her legs on the counter, pulling at the promise ring on her finger. “Every time she’s been over, I’ve been at school or work. Does she exist or are you and Blake just lying to me?”

Mason laughed again and turned to her. “She’s real. Maybe we can all go on a double date sometime.”

“Yeah, that would be fun,” Skyla hummed thoughtfully. Thunder rumbled outside and she glanced out the window. It was still raining, but it seemed like it was raining harder now.

“Hey. Are you hungry?”

Skyla turned back to her boyfriend and nodded, grinning. “Starving. I didn’t eat breakfast or lunch--” and then she stopped herself. She fucked up. She fucked up bad.

Mason put the bowl down and slowly approached her. “You haven’t eaten all day?”

“No,” she mumbled, avoiding his concerned eye contact. “I was running late this morning and I just forgot to get lunch because I was finishing homework…”

“Baby,” Mason whispered in that sweet tone that made her melt. “You’ve been forgetting to eat a lot lately. Is everything okay?”

Skyla nodded and leaned into Mason’s hand as he placed it on the side of her face. “I’m fine.” And she was. She had honestly just been forgetting to eat. Besides, it’s not like she had been too hungry recently. “Promise.”

Mason leaned forward and kissed her forehead, pushing her wet bangs out of the way. She smiled gently and wrapped her arms around his middle, hugging him and pulling him closer. He laughed a little as he stumbled and wrapped his arms around her back, his hands resting on her lower back.

“I love you,” she whispered into his shirt, pressing her head against his chest. His heart was beating steadily until it suddenly began to speed up.

“Honey, if you keep hugging me, I’m gonna get hard,” Mason whispered into her ear, a grin in his voice.

“What?” Skyla exclaimed, pulling away but keeping a relatively close distance. “We’re just hugging!”

“I’m between your legs,” he whispered. He was indeed grinning.

Skyla groaned and pushed him away before hopping down off of the counter. “You’re disgusting.” Mason laughed and she picked up a bowl from the counter. “Men are gross.”

“Yeah,” he agreed.

After getting some soup, which was tomato according to Mason, Skyla sat beside him on the couch while he scrolled through Netflix. “What do you wanna watch?” he asked her.

She shrugged and blew on a spoonful of soup. “I don’t mind. You choose.”

He hummed and clicked on a movie they had begun watching last night before getting… distracted.

“It’s my favorite Marvel movie,” Skyla teased with a smirk. She looked at Mason and saw him just staring at her with a look that said “I’m done” and she bursted out laughing.

“For the last time, it’s not a Marvel movie,” Mason said with a smile.

“It literally is!” Skyla exclaimed, pointing at the TV. “It has RDJ, Scarlett Johnason, and Jon Faveru. This is Iron Man 2.”

“No!” Mason repeated as he laughed. “Baby, it’s not Iron Man 2.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She brushed it off with a waved hand and started to eat. Mason shook his head and ate as well.

After eating, Skyla went to put the bowls in the sink. She’d do the dishes later. Right now she wanted to cuddle. Apparently, Mason had the same thing in mind because when she returned, he was already sitting on the couch with a blanket. The same blanket, in fact, that Skyla had gotten him for their first Christmas together four years ago. Her heart swelled and she smiled.

“Cuddles?” Mason asked with his brows raised in hope.

She smiled and lay down on the couch. “C’mere, baby.”

Mason made a small sound of happiness and laid on top of her with his head on her chest. Skyla got the blanket fixed and exhaled deeply. This right here was her favorite place in the world. Mason with his hands under her shirt and holding her sides. When he was still in California with his POS mom, he always texted her about how he wanted to cuddle with her. How he wanted to lay his head on her chest and hear her heartbeat. Unsurprisingly, his love language was physical touch.

“Hey.”

She turned away from the movie and looked down at him. She knew what he wanted and so she leaned her head down and gave him one of the softest kisses she had ever given him. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispered back against her lips, kissing her again.

“I love you more.” Another kiss.

“I love you most.” Another one, this time a bit more forceful like his words.

She pulled away and smirked. “I love you more than that.”

“If I had to choose you or the stars, I’d choose you every time,” he replied with a smirk.

She scowled. “You can’t use my own pickup line on me. You don’t even like the stars.”

“I like you,” he said, placing his hand on her cheek and stroking her cheek with his hand. “You’re pretty. Like the stars.”

She blushed and turned her face away as he laughed. “Stoppp,” she whined.

“Okay, okay.” He put his head back on her chest and put his hands under her shirt to hold onto her sides. Skyla went back to running her hands through his hair like she often did.

About halfway through the movie, Mason suddenly sat up. Skyla made an upset sound and reached her hands up. She was in the middle of braiding his hair while he was kissing her stomach and borderline giving her hickies.

“What are you doing?” she asked, sitting up more as Mason stood up.

“Switch,” was all he said.

So she nodded and let him lay down on the couch before climbing on top of him. She straddled him, putting her legs on either side of his torso. Mason got the blanket fixed and she snuggled into his chest, laying her head over his heart. She smiled as he felt her immediately begin to run his hands through her hair. Okay, maybe this was her favorite position.

She turned her head to the side to continue to watch the movie. Her hands moved under his shirt, though she struggled a little bit. Skyla noticed him take a deep breath before her hands slipped under his shirt, and so she looked up at him.

“You okay? Am I too heavy?”

“Hm? No, you’re fine baby,” he answered. “It’s just… you were moving your hands.”

“Oh. Sorry, I did kind of touch that spot on your side that you said feels weird. Sorry--”

“No, no.” Mason shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I thought your hands were gonna go down my pants.”

She blushed a little before she smirked. “Oh. Did you want them to?”

“...Maybe.” He mimicked her smirk.

She bit her lip. She really wasn’t in the mood and so she gave him a look.

He had gotten good at knowing what she meant by a simple look. “It’s okay, baby. We already had sex, so it’s okay.”

She hummed a little and gave him a kiss on his throat--basically as far she could reach without moving too much--before settling back into his chest. He rubbed her back and she drew tiny patterns with her fingers.

Skyla had just begun to doze off when suddenly Mason gently shook her. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, squinting. “Hm?”

“We should--were you asleep?” Mason asked, cutting off what he was originally going to say.

Skyla nodded and rubbed her eyes, yawning. “Yeah.” How could she not? She was exhausted and he was warm and safe. “You know scratching my back makes me sleepy.”

Mason smiled. “Sorry, baby. If you’re tired, you can go to bed and I can clean up.”

But then she shook her head and sat up. “No. You cooked so I need to clean. We have a deal.”

He sighed. “Okay. I can help if you want.”

Skyla shook her head again. “No. I can do it. Go to bed, baby. It’s like, 10.”

“That’s not late though,” Mason said, folding the blanket up.

“It is for me,” she said to him. “I’ve got a 7 a.m. class and then work until one. Then I have a 1:30 lecture that goes until 3:30 and then--”

“Honey.” Mason grabbed her arms to make her stop talking. His hands drifted up to her face and he cradled it in his hands. “I was joking. Calm down. I know you’re stressed because of finals and band and everything. Take a breath.”

Skyla nodded and took a deep breath. Her anxiety was getting worse. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he told her with a small laugh. He leaned forward and kissed her head. “I get it. But you’re smart. You’re gonna be okay.”

She said nothing and simply stared up at him. The way he was looking at her, the softness in his blue eyes. She almost started to cry. She swallowed the lump in her throat and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his middle and gripping his shirt in her hands. He stroked her hair and she pushed her forehead into his shoulder, gritting her teeth so she wouldn’t cry.

“I love you,” Mason whispered after a minute or so. “So much.”

“I love you,” she managed to get out. Her voice was strained as she was on the brink of tears. “I don’t wanna lose you.”

“Honey.” This time, his tone made a tear slip out. It was so sweet, so gentle, so intimate. He wrapped his arms tighter around her and cradled her head. “You won’t. Never again. I’m not leaving you.”

Skyla wanted to tell him how thankful she was, but she couldn’t form the right words. So she nodded against his shoulder and hugged him tighter as Mason hummed and swayed in place. When she sniffled, Mason kissed her forehead and whispered something. It made her smile and nod and she pulled away. He held onto her forearms to keep her from moving too far.

“Hm?” She looked up at him as one of his hands left her arm to cup the side of her face. His thumb stroked her cheekbone and she closed her eyes, leaning into his hand. When it left her, she felt cold and she opened her eyes.

“Let me do the dishes, baby,” Mason whispered. “Go to bed.”

This time, she nodded. “Okay.”

Mason smiled and gently let her go before walking into the kitchen. She stood in the living room and wiped at her eyes and sniffed. After she recollected herself, she made her way into the bedroom. She didn’t have any reason to change clothes since she was already basically in pyjamas already. So she pulled her backpack off of her bed and made sure to plug her laptop into its charger at her desk.

Rubbing at her eye, she pulled her backpack away from the bed and put her phone on her nightstand. After brushing her teeth and avoiding her reflection in the mirror, she got into bed and pulled the blanket up to her neck. Her stuffed animal, a possum, was clutched to her chest.

But she didn’t fall asleep. She just stared at the wall, her mind in a flurry. She only snapped out of it when she heard the front door open and footsteps.

She heard Blake’s voice and then Mason’s. She smiled. She did like Blake, he was always so nice to her. And he was Mason’s best friend, had been since middle school.

But part of her kind of wished he didn’t live with them. She wished that it was just her and Mason. And maybe a dog. She wished she wouldn’t have to worry about being too loud during sex. Blake never mentioned it, bless his heart, but she knew it probably bothered him. She wished that she and Mason could spend the night talking with each other and not have to worry about waking someone up. She wished it was just them.

But then there was laughter, Mason’s laugh, and she felt guilty. Blake made him happy. Why should she wish for someone who makes the love of her life happy to go away?

With a sigh, she closed her eyes. The bed was warm and it smelled like Mason. Maybe this was her favorite place to be.

The door of their bedroom opened once more and she squinted at the light, making a tiny groaning sound.

“Shit,” Mason cursed, quickly closing it once again. “Sorry, baby.”

She just sighed and settled back into the covers, beginning to doze off.

But, as it always did, Mason getting into bed woke her up enough to shift positions. His shirt was off and she put her stuffed animal to the side to instead cuddle with her boyfriend. He chuckled and his chest rumbled under her ear as she got settled.

Their legs tangled together, her head over his pecs as he laid on his back, and his rough, callused fingers slowly drifting up and down her back.

“I’ll try not to wake you up tonight, darling,” he whispered to her.

“Thank you,” she whispered back. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

And they fell asleep like that, wrapped in each other's arms with the rain pattering on their roof to sing the couple to sleep.

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feel free to make requests. reblogs are completely welcome, but no reposts on any other platform unless you ask me first. thanks y’all!

#fluff #original characters #original work #young adult #shortstory #short story

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therainroguefanfiction · 4 years

Text

⁂ Trapped (China/Yao Wang)

Genre: Angst, Mystery, AU ☁

Word Count: 1,766 ☁

Pairing: Reader, China ☁

World: Axis Powers Hetalia ☁

Author’s Note: I wrote this a while ago and I honestly don’t know where I was going with this lol I think it was supposed to be a series? But now it’s a one shot. If enough people like it, I might make a part two.

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“A-A-Achoo!” you groaned in pain at the pressure in your nose and temples. Your head felt so fuzzy. You’re not sure when or how it started, you just happened to wake up feeling like death was creeping at your door. You tried to ignore it at first and just went about your day, but fifteen minutes later, you were crawling back into bed where you remained for the rest of the day.

Your stomach grumbled loudly and you groaned. ‘How the hell can I feel like I’m starving and want to throw up at the same time?’

Loud voices slipped past the paper-thin walls and you wondered if your neighbor was throwing a party. That seemed unlikely since the apartment opposite yours was owned by a retired older woman and the one beside you belonged to a couple with a one-year-old child. The apartment opposite them was vacant.

Knock, knock, knock.

Your brow furrowed. ‘Was that at my door?’ Your eyes slid to the digital clock on the bedside table – ten-thirty at night. The only people that visited you were your mom, younger brother, or your friend, Kyousuke, but why would they be visiting so late at night? There were no missed calls on your phone, either.

Bang, bang, bang!

‘What the hell…’ your heart picked up speed, but you didn’t freak out like you normally would and, instead of trying to figure out if it was an intruder or an emergency, you slowly pulled yourself out from under the covers. Your brain was far too cloudy to think clearly, your bare feet shuffling across the wooden floor because it was far too much effort to lift them.

Knock, bang, knock!

“Geez, keep your thong on,” you muttered under your breath, sniffling loudly as you reached for the doorknob. The second you turned it, the door swung open and two bodies rammed into you. Your back hit the floor and you wheezed as an elbow stabbed into your ribs, sending you into a coughing fit. You shoved the bodies off you with a strength you didn’t know you possessed so you could roll onto your side and cough up a lung.

A warm hand came to rest upon your back, followed by a male voice thick with an accent you couldn’t place at that moment. “Aiyah~ Are you okay?”

“Look what you did, idiot!”

“Hey, Italy fell on top of them, too, bro!”

“Ne, ne, do you think they have pasta?”

“This is very unpleasant.”

“Shut up, you nimrods!”

The hand on your back rubbed gentle circles against your shirt, while the other rested on your forehead. “They’re burning up, aru!”

You glanced over your shoulder as your coughing died down, your vision moving in and out of focus. Six men stood in your doorway, arguing amongst one another with accents you couldn’t place. ‘Mama, I think I might die tonight…’

And then your world went dark.

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You woke with a start, shooting up in your bed, unsure of what had pulled you so violently from your sleep. The red digits of the clock showed two in the morning. ‘Damn it, I gotta pee but I don’t wanna get out of bed.’

You rubbed at your eyes with a groan before throwing the covers off and pulling yourself from the bed. The bathroom was directly across the hall from your bedroom and, in your half-asleep sick state, you failed to notice the steam coming up from the crack under the door. You turned the knob and stepped inside, only to freeze in terror as you came face to face with a tall, sandy-haired man standing stark naked in front of the shower.

He turned his head to look at you, eyes closed and lips tilted up in an amused smirk. As soon as his lips parted, you scrambled from the room, slamming the door shut and leaning against it as if that would somehow fix the problem. ‘I… I think I’m hallucinating… Maybe I should visit the doctor tomorrow.’

“You’re awake! How are you feeling, aru?”

Your head snapped to the end of the hall where another man stood. Shorter than the first, he had medium brown hair tied in a loose ponytail, his eyes a warm chocolate color. You swallowed hard as your heart picked up speed. ‘What the hell is happening?’

Pain shot through your skull and you slid down the door, groaning as you clutched at your head. The man was at your side in seconds, his arm around your shoulders and face filled with worry.

“Easy now,” he scolded softly, rubbing your upper arm. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,”

“Who the hell are you?” you muttered under your breath. “And what are you doing in my apartment?”

“My name is Chi -” He stopped abruptly, clearing his throat as he helped you back to your feet. “I’m Wang Yao. Now, you need to get back in bed, we can talk when you wake up, aru.”

You pushed him away with what little bit of strength you had left, only to stumble back into the naked man who now stood in the doorway. His arms wrapped around you tightly, binding your arms to your sides, and he easily lifted you off the ground, your back firmly against his toned, naked chest.

“Russia! Put them down this instant!” Yao demanded, putting his hand on his hips.

“Hm?” He tilted his head to the side, violet eyes shining. “They attacked you, da?”

“Of course, they’re scared.”

The door to the apartment suddenly opened and slammed closed after two more men entered the apartment, bickering loudly. When they noticed the scene in the hallway, they stopped abruptly.

“What’s going on, dudes?” asked the blue-eyed blonde.

“Bloody hell, why are you naked?” Demanded the green-eyed blonde with a disgusted expression.

The door to the spare bedroom popped open and yet another blonde entered the hallway. “Stop being so loud, you idiots! You’re going to wake up -” his words were cut short when his blue eyes landed on you.

As badly as you wanted to struggle in the man’s grip, you simply had no energy left and he was clearly stronger than you on a bad day.

“What are you doing? Put them down!”

The tall man frowned but finally released you. Your feet hit the ground and your legs gave way, body crumbling to the wooden floor. Yao reached out to you, hugging you gently to his chest as he rubbed the top of your head.

Tears filled your eyes as your body started to shake within his grasp, your voice hoarse. “Please… just kill me and get it over with!”

The third blonde frowned as he stepped forward. “We’re not going to harm you, dear.”

Yao helped you to your feet again, bringing you into the kitchen where he pulled out a chair for you to sit at the small, square table. “I will make you some tea,”

As he got to work, the third blonde settled into the wooden chair across from you. You glanced at him and his stern expression softened, bright blue eyes calm like the waves of the ocean.

“What is your name?” He questioned, words laced with a thick accent you recognized to be German.

You chewed on your lip for a moment, wondering if you should cooperate with them. Finally, you answered. “Y/N…”

“Y/N,” he repeated with a smile. “I am Ludwig,”

The rest of the men introduced themselves in turn. The green-eyed blonde called himself Arthur, while the blue-eyed blonde was called Alfred. Finally, the naked man, now dressed in a heavy tan coat, called himself Ivan.

You glanced at him with a frown, voice barely above a whisper. “Russia…” Low as it was, the man easily picked up the word, his violet eyes staring into your own. You swallowed your nerves, hand clenching around your cloth pants. “Why… did they call you Russia?”

The room tensed up, Yao pausing in the middle of pouring the tea into a cup. Ivan, however, just smiled brightly. “Because I am mother Russia, da.”

His answer unsettled you more than you already were. ‘He… thinks he’s a country?’

Arthur’s eye twitched in annoyance as he glared at the taller male. “We weren’t supposed to tell them that, you bloody buffoon!”

He only giggled in response, tilting his head to the side. It sent a shiver down your spine.

“Who the hell are you people?” You demanded weakly. “Why are you in my apartment? You said… you said you weren’t going to hurt me so what do you want?” Tears threatened to build up again, but you did your best to hold them at bay, not wanting to show more weakness to these men than you already had.

“Please calm down,” Yao spoke softly as he set a cup of steaming tea on the table in front of you. He offered you a kind smile before addressing the other men. “I think we should tell them. We owe them that much, aru.”

“Are you crazy?” Arthur cried in disbelief. “They will never believe us!”

“You don’t know that!” Yao argued with a huff, his hand on his hip. “They deserve to know the truth!”

As they argued back and forth, voices raising in volume, you moaned in pain, taking your head between your hands. Was this what they called a fever dream? It felt like you were on drugs and you hated it.

Ludwig frowned as he leaned across the table, gently pulling your hands from your head, but he didn’t release them. His hands were large, easily engulfing your own. It was oddly comforting. “I am Germany,”

The arguing stopped dead, everyone snapping their attention to the German.

Yao sent you a warm smile as he placed his hand on your shoulder. “I’m China, aru~”

“I’m America, dude!” Alfred grinned proudly, puffing out his chest. “And I’m the hero of this story!”

Defeated, Arthur folded his arms across his chest and grumbled under his breath. “England,”

Your eyes darted between the men surrounding you. You wanted to call them nuts, to believe that this was just a dream concocted by your high temperature, but with Yao’s warm hand on your shoulder and Ludwig’s warm hands cradling your own, you knew deep down that it was not a dream. These men were real and, if their sincere faces were anything to go by, the story they told was very real.

‘Mom, I think I just found myself in a really weird situation…’ you groaned, letting your head drop to the table.

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sweetnestor · 6 years

Text

12 Days | Chapter 5.2

Two guys that lowkey hate each other are forced to walk in each other’s shoes in order to learn a lesson.

***in collaboration with @themarkiplierexperience

lmao soz its not actually x reader we’re just desperate for attention haaaa

After a few slices of pizza, Tom was brought back to LA. The sun was already going down, an indication at how long he was gone, and probably how much trouble he'd get into once he was around friends again. He had been bracing himself as he walked up to Bella’s front door, for she had told him to meet her there. He had to come up with a damn good apology in about ten seconds.

Tom quickly stopped himself from knocking; Just before dropping him off, Ethan had showed him which keys were which. Obviously, the only pink key in the set was the one to Bella’s house. This couple seemed to really be into symbolism and the like. Tom shook his head at the thought as he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

To his surprise, he heard music blaring inside the premises. It was a song he recognized (Kiwi by Harry Styles), but it still threw him off guard. Tom took a slow step inside and closed the door behind him, confused. As he stepped further inside, he saw his lovely girlfriend jumping around the living room, her curled pink hair bouncing everywhere. She was with two other people, who were also jumping and head banging rhythmically. One was a guy with dark green hair and a manly beard and the other was a shorter girl with short, dark brown hair. The three of them turned when Tom walked into the living room, and they all cheered.

“C’mon, let's dance!” Bella said, holding her hands out as she continued doing just that.

“What?” he asked, laughing in disbelief.

“Dancing it out!” replied the guy with green hair. Sean, was it? Or, Jack, as he recalled Ethan telling him.

Tom shrugged and started moving to the beat of the upbeat pop song. He wasn't sure why this was happening, or if it happened regularly. Needless to say, this was not what he was expecting when he walked into this apartment.

After the song ended, proper greetings were in order. Sean came over and gave Tom a hug like he hadn't seen him in a long time. Then, Signe (“see-nuh” - he finally got the right pronunciation!) did the same. He had no idea how long these guys had been friends with Ethan. This whole switch thing was going to be a ‘figure it out as you go’ type of thing, wasn't it?

“I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner,” he began as he sat on the couch. “I had a meeting and a shoot I completely forgot about, and it took ages.”

“Hey, it's fine. Happens to all of us,” Sean told him. “We're spending the night here, anyway, so you can't avoid us forever!”

“You're stuck with us!” Signe jokingly added.

“Lit,” Tom replied with minor hesitation. Was that a thing Ethan would say? It felt like it.

“Anyway,” Bella spoke up, “me and Signe are gonna film a video right now, so…”

“I'll look after little E-tan,” Sean finished for her with a small laugh.

Tom did catch the small moment of tension. Bella was still upset about the previous day, and probably over the fact that her boyfriend basically ignored her all day. Of course she wouldn't want to be in the same room as him.

The two ladies stood and went into a room, probably Bella’s. They were making a video, were they? For YouTube, right? Did they all make videos in their own homes? Did they not have an office space like Mark? Tom had a lot to learn, and he didn't know how long he had.

“And then there were two,” he commented once he was alone with the Irish guy.

He chuckled. “Really, though, how are you? Heard you had a hard time the other day.”

Here we go again. This didn't feel any different to the interviews where Tom was asked the same damn questions over and over. He couldn't help the reluctance in his tone.

“I've had some anxiety lately, I'm fine, I took some time off work. It's nothing.”

“But you're taking time off work,” Sean repeated. “That doesn't seem like you.”

You’ve not the slightest clue, mate.

Tom shrugged, his stomach turning. This guy seemed to be seeing right through him. How long would it be until figured it out? “Yeah, I know. It's just… I think I'm overworking myself. I mean, I did crash and go mental for a bit. Definite sign I should slow down.”

Sean only nodded, watching him. “Yeah, it's always good to do that. You gotta take care of yourself, too. And just know, if you need someone to talk to, I'm here.”

It was something a lot of people said, but hearing it from this particular guy felt reassuring. It felt genuine, and Tom could only tell because he hadn't heard or felt something like that in a very long time. For the first time since the switch, he actually felt somewhat comfortable, and that's what made him say his next sentence.

“Ever since D23...” he began, and then he paused. How was he going to go about this without sounding insane? “I haven't really felt like myself.”

“How so?” Sean asked.

I literally switched bodies with your friend, but you would think I was mental if I said that.

“I… I don’t know. It’s probably nothing,” he said, waving it off.

“Maybe you’re burning yourself out?” Sean suggested. “I know that after a while of doing this, you get pretty exhausted.”

Was he talking about YouTube? Surely, it couldn’t be that hard. Tom was going to try his hand at it tomorrow, and he wasn’t all that worried. How hard could it possibly be?

“Yeah, it's probably that,” Tom said, now wanting to get away from this subject.

Thankfully, Sean did change topics, but it was still an awkward, uncomfortable one.

“Are things okay with you and Baller?”

Tom wanted to laugh at that nickname, but the mood still felt a little serious. He looked at Sean, who was watching him carefully. Almost like he was waiting for Tom to lash out or snap in some way. Again, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was always like this, or if it was just because of the switch.

“Uh…” he trailed off. “What did she say to you?”

“Nothing, she was just a little off when you showed up,” Sean said. “Maybe I’m reading too far into it. I think I’m quick to worry when it comes to Bella.”

Sounds like an ex-boyfriend. Or someone who had way too many feelings for someone else’s girlfriend. Upon his Wikipedia search, Tom learned that Bella and Sean (she prefers to call him Jack) were very close and there was plenty of speculation regarding their relationship. Maybe that was something he should have asked Ethan about before being dropped off.

“I don’t mean to overstep,” Sean continued, seeing the look on Tom’s face. “You know, you’re my friend and she’s my friend… I just wanna know if you guys are okay.”

Are they close enough to the point where Ethan can talk about something like the knife incident? Best to keep that to himself.

“We’re fine,” Tom finally answered. “Thank you, but everything’s fine with me and my girlfriend.”

Sean took the hint.

“You're dirty, disgusting But I can't get enough of your loving Boy I hate you, really hate you My momma said I shouldn't date you…”

The high, distinct voice was coming from the bathroom in Bella’s room, where the girl was currently showering. It was well after midnight, Sean and Signe had already gone to bed in the spare room, so the remaining couple followed suit. Tom was nervous about this, to say the least. He would have gone back Ethan’s apartment, but he didn't have a ride there, much less directions to get there.

He had been in the middle of typing out a message to Ethan asking for those directions, until he got distracted by Bella’s singing voice. He had never heard anything like it before, it was so captivating and pretty. He looked at the bathroom door, which was open just a crack, and he couldn't help but smile at the singing.

It moved him, he felt a million things at once. Just when he thought this woman couldn't get any better. She was beautiful, she was motivated and passionate. She was kinky as hell, a little weird, absolutely hilarious. She was also a fucking amazing singer. Very different from the quiet, anxious girl that interviewed Tom only a few days ago.

“You sweet talk me again, yo I don't wanna be friends, no Why am I such a fool When it comes to you A, B, C, D, E-E-E, F, U”

Once that song ended, Tom lost focus on what he had been doing before. He looked down at the phone in his hand, skimmed the text, and then deleted it. Maybe instead of just straight out asking for things, Tom would give Ethan something like a daily report. He was supposed to learn things on his own, right?

“Dude your girlfriend is really fucking talented,” he typed out. “And I'm gonna try to apologize to her about yesterday, I'll let you know how that goes.” Sent. “Oh and I don't know how to get back to your apartment.” Sent again. “Sean and Signe are really cool btw. Ok goodnight.”

Tom put the phone down just as he heard the shower turn off. All he could do was hope that Bella wouldn't try anything like she did the day before. He didn't want to have to reject her twice in a row. Besides, she had barely spoken to him since he arrived, and he really needed to fix that.

He looked around her room, taking in whatever he could in the short amount of time he had. Sure, he had to learn just about everything there is to know about Bella Santiago, but he wasn’t observing just because he had to. He took in the keyboard, obviously connecting it to the singing he heard in the bathroom. He saw the alarming amount of makeup brushes on top of the bureau and the piles of clothes on the floor. He actually had to Google what the large pink, purple, and blue flag hanging above her bed meant.

What was most interesting to him though, were the professional lights and the camera stored in the corner of the room. Was that all Bella needed to make her videos? Tom was overwhelmed at the amount of gadgets Ethan had in his own home. Honestly, it made him a bit more nervous to make videos of his own.

Eventually, the girl opened the door and turned off the bathroom light. Tom was pleasantly surprised to see her wearing a navy blue Midtown High t-shirt and black booty shorts. Her black and pink hair was damp, and she was running a towel through the long locks. But Tom was focused on the shirt. Bella really was a fan, not just an interviewer who pretended to know everything about the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

“Cool shirt,” he told her as he watched her approach the bed.

“I didn't know you were still here,” she replied, disregarding his words. “Thought you left.”

Here we go. Boyfriend time.

“Babe,” he started, sitting up on the mattress and looking directly at her. “Hey, I'm so sorry about yesterday. I'm so, so sorry. I don't know what happened…”

She didn't say anything at first. She busied herself by throwing the towel back into the bathroom and approaching the bed again. Then she returned the eye contact.

“Was it something I did? Brutal honesty.”

“No, of course not!”

“Ethan, come on!”

“I mean it!” He sat up on his knees, trying to get his point across. “You know I've been having a hard time lately. And I took it out on you at the literal worst time, and I'm so sorry.”

Bella looked down, picking at her fingernails. “What kind of a hard time?”

Tom tilted his head to the side. “I… you know. The panic attack.”

“Those last up to forty five minutes.”

“I'm not working right now, either,” he continued, knowing that work was a big thing for this guy. “I just haven't felt like… I don't feel like myself anymore.”

The pink haired girl now sat on the bed. “Do you wanna talk more about it?”

What else could he say? How could he not sound absolutely crazy?

“Maybe another time,” he said. “I just wanted to properly apologize for yesterday. I was out of line.”

“Okay,” Bella said, her tone changing to something more gentle and affectionate. She placed her hand on Tom’s. “Whenever you wanna talk, you know I'm here. If there's anyone who's going to understand the noise in your brain, it'll be me.”

Tom nodded, though he wasn't sure what she meant by noise. Did it have to do with the anxiety thing Ethan had mentioned?

He didn't really think about it that much because Bella leaned in to kiss him. Of course, he returned the gesture but quickly stopped at as he remembered the next point to bring up.

“By the way, is it okay if we… um…” he trailed off.

“What?” she asked as she sat up against the headboard.

Tom saw her shorts ride up, and for some reason he wasn't expecting to see pinkish scars going across her thighs. His heart nearly dropped at the sight, his mind threatening to go to the darkest place. However, he shook it off and continued his sentence.

“Can we… can we be… abstinent?” His voice went softer with every word, bracing himself for any backlash.

“How come?” Bella asked.

“Uh…”

“Oh!” she said in realization. “You're not feeling like yourself, not in the right mind. I get it. It's okay. We'll take as long as you need.”

Tom sighed in relief. That was so much easier than he expected. He smiled when Bella kissed him on the cheek.

“You're a really good girlfriend, you know that?” he told her as he took her hand.

“I just want you to be happy.”

Tom looked down at their intertwined fingers, mildly content. He couldn't help but think that Ethan was pretty lucky to have someone so understanding and empathetic. However, his mind went to the dark place when he saw the more pink scars on Bella’s wrist, eerily similar to the ones on her thighs. Clearly, he had missed a huge detail about this girl. He just wasn't sure if he was supposed to know about it, though.

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tag list: @marie-is-in-the-dark @beardedsteveslut

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#crankgameplays x oc #ethan nestor x reader #tom holland x oc #tom holland x reader #sweetheart writes #sweetheart collabs #twelve days #lmaaaoooooo this is where we fall a bit behind #one of us may post another 'behind the scenes thing' if we dont have our next chapters done #also dont worry tom aint gon fall for bellers #or maybe he does idek #hes all over the place when it comes to love and relationships and shit i just decided #anyway thats not the point of the story hahaha #also if u havent read my previous stories that have to do with bella and ethan then ur in for a surprise #kind of #i wonder how many ppl are reading this just for tom and dont know anything abt ethan/jack/signe haha #anyway imma shut the fuck up now thank u for reading

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