#kneeling in front of thousands of people like a hoe

[hedonists]

Working that mic like a premium-

#nemesestext #hope he feels as powerful in that pose as he looks #you go be your best self #especially if it entails #kneeling in front of thousands of people like a hoe #bad omens #noah sebastian

[wherevermyway]

step out! do what you want (chapter two)

pairing: reader/bang chan
 side pairings: established changbin/minho, past jisung/reader, a moment of changbin/chan flirting but it’s brief and not serious rating: explicit | 18+ warnings: alcohol, party drug use, violence (fist fights), a little angst because everyone loves drama, lots of profanity, smut, unprotected sex, a bit of exhibitionism, minho is definitely a bit of a hoe and a bad influence word count: about 11,100! also on my AO3 here! chapter/series navigation

chapter two: hello stranger, who the hell are you?

recommended tracks: just disappear by takayan, the last by agust d, phobia by stray kids, fairy of shampoo by tomorrow x together, dynamite by bts, dumb litty by kard. playlist can be found here!

note: this chapter is much longer than chapter one and it’s a wild ride. I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it!

disclaimer: 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.

side note: for the love of minho’s cats, don’t mix party drugs or drugs with alcohol.

The soft light of dawn comes through the window behind you, gently causing you to wake up. For a brief moment, you forgot where you were, but last night comes crashing down on you like the slight headache you have from your body being mad at you for having a bit too much fun with drugs last night.

The bed shifts next to you as Christopher starts to wake up. He reaches his hand over your abdomen and pulls you back into his chest. “Morning,” he sleepily grumbles, half-awake, “how’d you sleep?” You smile, enjoying the warmth of his embrace.

“This bed is really nice.” You run your hand across the sheets, then slowly turn to face Christopher. “I think our escapade last night helped me sleep pretty well. What about you?”

He grumbles and ducks his head under your chin. “You absolutely wore me out last night. I feel like I slept like the dead. What time is it, anyway?”

“I’m not really sure, let me check.” You say, starting to roll over when Christopher stops you, his grip tightening on your waist.

“I thought we agreed to have a repeat of last night this morning?”

“Yeah, yeah, but maybe we should eat something first,” you manage to squeeze out of Christopher’s grip as he groans dramatically with feigned despair, pulling yourself to the side of the bed and reaching down to your jeans. It takes some skilled fumbling to get your phone out of your back pocket with only one hand, but you manage to get it. Miraculously, when you press the side button, your phone comes to life - there’s still some semblance of battery left.

‘Holy shit,’ you think to yourself as you see your screen. Eight missed text messages from Minji and three missed calls. You expected the mass of texts, but she must have had a really good time last night if she called you.

As you open your texts, you briefly scan through them and your stomach falls to the floor.

What?! No way!

Eonni, you seriously can NOT be hanging with THE Bang Chan?

Babe, he is dangerous, you need to get out of there.

Oh my god. Why aren’t you answering my texts?

Chan’s a kkangpae, like, he sells a lot of drugs and shit. Why do you think I broke up with Hyunjin last year? He got involved in that and I wasn’t gonna deal with it anymore.

Oh, I never told you I dated Hyunjin, did I? Oops.

Eonniiiiiiiii I swear you better not be dead. I’m going to bring you back and kill you if you’re dead.

Seriously, I thought after you were done with Jisung you swore off music producers?? Girl, you have bad taste lol.

“Well?” Christopher’s voice scares you and you involuntarily drop your phone to the floor in surprise. “What time is it? Hey, are you okay?”

You shake your head in disbelief, but somehow compose yourself enough to nervously laugh it off. “It’s, uh, like 10:30.”

Your answer doesn’t really convince Christopher that you’re actually fine. He places a hand on your shoulder, gently giving you a squeeze, and you flinch in response. “Are you sure you’re okay? You dropped your phone and you look like you’re gonna be sick.”

Chan’s a kkangpae. It feels like Minji’s text is burned in your head; it’s all you can think about. A bout of nausea washes over you - the red flags you had pop up last night were right. The nice apartment, the drugs, the cool demeanour, hell, even the way he looked - everything clicked into place. This man wasn’t just a music producer, he was something way more serious.

Christopher gets up out of bed and walks to the kitchen. He shuffles around for a minute before he comes back with a bottled beverage in his hand, kneeling down in front of you. “Babe, you look terrible. Drink this, it’ll help you feel better.” He takes his other hand and gently rubs his thumb over your knee. The look on his face is deceptively calm and inviting. How was he so dangerous?

You shake your head and grab the drink, briefly glancing over the label. Some cold ginger tea blend that you’ve had a thousand times before. The thought of drinking something right now was really off-putting, not due to nausea, but this crippling, suffocating feeling in your stomach.

“The washroom’s through that door back there,” Christopher says as he points behind his shoulder. “I’ve gotta check on something, but I’ll be back in a minute. If you need anything, just yell for me, okay?”

You still can’t manage to look him in the eyes, but you will yourself to nod your head weakly. He pushes himself up onto his toes, kissing your forehead softly before he walks over to his closet, ruffling through the clothes hanging up. It’s a good moment to take off to the washroom, if anything just to wash your face and get your bearings straight.

Time seems to stand still. You’re not sure how long you stand with your head hanging over the sink, water starting to dry on your face. The fact that Christopher was a kkangpae seemed foreign and odd, like the word didn’t actually exist anymore, the more you mulled over it in your head. You came to the conclusion that he himself couldn’t have been that dangerous, but that the people he involved himself with were probably really dangerous. Right?

Knowing that you had slept with someone with dangerous connections didn’t bother you as much as the fact that you liked sleeping with him, that he was arguably one of the best guys you’d fucked. If the circumstances were different, you would probably try and keep whatever you had going. The thought of dating someone like him didn’t seem so terrible, except for the fact that he was a goddamn drug dealer.

“Fuck,” you groan as you look at yourself in the mirror. You decided you had to get dressed, come up with some excuse and get out of there. “Right.” Instilling a fake air of confidence, you straightened up and opened the door back to the bedroom. As you walked through the doorway, you could see Christopher in the kitchen through the corner of your eye. In the time it took you to get your head on straight, he had dressed himself back up in a nice button up shirt and some dark blue jeans.

“Oh!” He calls after you from the doorway, “I grabbed a shirt of mine and a pair of pants that I think will fit you? They’re on the bed.”

‘Great,’ you sarcastically thought to yourself, ‘I’ve always wanted to wear a drug dealer’s clothes. Very cool.’

You grab your underwear and bra from last night and slip them on, feeling gross and like you needed to get back home now, if anything, so you could shower and wear fresh clothes. Since you were already pretty deep in, you decide to just wear Christopher’s clothing and hope that he didn’t want it back. It was kind of cute, an obviously worn band t-shirt, and comfortable, yet somehow flattering black joggers. If this were another lifetime, you could see yourself stealing Christopher’s clothes more often.

Alright, you were nearly ready to go. However, when you went to grab your phone to respond to Minji and let her know you were okay, you were foiled by fate and it was dead. “Motherfucker,” you grumble as you grind the heel of your foot into the ground in frustration. Life was not on your side today.

You decide to suck up your pride for a bit, after all, shit was already bad enough, how could it get worse? With a bit of a lazy shuffle in your step, you make your way out to the kitchen, weakly shaking your phone. “Hey,” you squeak out, “I don’t suppose you have a charger, do you?”

“Wow!” Christopher’s eyes light up at seeing you in his old clothes, “You look really cute in that. Yeah, I’ve got a charger in there, come here,” he walks over towards you, grabbing your hand and guiding you towards the far side of the bed in the bedroom. “Here,” he says as he bends down and hands you the end of the cord. “I think this will work? Looks like you’ve got an iPhone too.”

“Thanks,” you say, plugging your phone in. The way that he looks at you so softly warms your heart a bit - it’s been a long time since you felt so cared for, and you felt guilty that you were going to try to dash out of here as soon as possible and leave all this behind. “Of course,” Christopher smiles and kisses your forehead again. “I’m gonna make something for breakfast real quick. It’ll be ready in a bit, so try not to fall asleep again, alright?”

The pit of regret in your stomach grows a bit. “Yeah, sure thing,” you say with fake enthusiasm.

Christopher’s footsteps fade from your ears and you have a moment’s reprieve before you hear a ringtone that isn’t yours. “Oh shit,” you hear him exclaim from the kitchen, “What happened now?”

“Changbin,” his voice turns dark as you hear him answer his phone. “Shit, yeah, no, I got your text messages. Wait,” he sounds slightly panicked, “you’re here? Goddammit, this is that bad, isn’t it?” There’s a lengthy pause. “Yeah, yeah, it’s fine. Whatever. You know where I am.” You hear his phone hit the countertop as Christopher sighs heavily and shouts, “Fuck!”

‘This is bad,’ you think, unconsciously gripping the sheets beneath you. The silence in the apartment is deafening; you swear you could hear your heartbeat beating out of your chest. Then, suddenly, footsteps come back into the bedroom as Christopher says your name, firmly and seriously, before sitting down next to you on the bed.

“I’m so sorry for this, but,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair, “someone I work with is coming over and it’s serious. Can you stay in here for a bit? After he’s gone, I’ll order us something for breakfast, something nice. Okay?” As you space off, lazily gazing towards Chris, you notice that he’s staring down at your right hand, gently placing his atop yours and softly wrapping his fingers around your hand. You noncommittally nod your head yes in reassurance, too distracted to really answer.

He’s a kkangpae, the reminder pops up in your head again. You swear that you can hear it in Minji’s voice. You know should get out of here, just bolt up and leave, but you can’t bring yourself to leave quite yet.

A pounding on the front door rips you from your thoughts. As Christopher bolts up to his feet, a chime comes from his phone. He pulls it from his back pocket, glancing at it briefly before relaxing the tense look from his face for a second. “Don’t worry, he’s friendly,” he says, getting up and walking out of the bedroom. “Well, friendly enough, at least. Stay here, I’ll deal with him.”

A moment passes, and you hear some light shuffling.

“You dense motherfucker,” an unfamiliar voice comes from the entryway, immediately followed by the door slamming. “The Chan I remember was never this stupid.”

“Changbin,” Christopher’s interjects, his voice terse.

“You went out after I explicitly told you not to and you brought a complete stranger back to your apartment? You absolute moron.” The voice, you assume belongs to Changbin, sounds more irritated than angry. “Hyunjin was spotted at that party last night. I don’t know who took it, but that photo of you and that woman is making the rounds in the group. Who only knows who all saw that? I thought I told you both to stay away from all of Itaewon-dong this week?”

The name Hyunjin causes your breath to hitch in your throat, piquing your interest. You pull yourself up to your feet, quietly walking towards the bedroom door. Cautiously, you poke your head over the doorframe, glancing into the kitchen. Christopher is standing behind a barstool, his hands ruffling through his hair before he casually tucks them in his pockets. A shorter, lean man with dark brown hair walks on the opposite side of the countertop, nervously pacing back and forth.

“Changbin, look, it was a mistake,” Christopher tiredly pleads, “I admit that I fucked up, yeah, but-”

“You fucked up?” Changbin cuts him off, punctuating his sentence a sarcastic laugh. He turns back to face the fridge and you hear the door opening, the sound of items shuffling echoing through the quiet apartment. “Yeah, you definitely fucked up. I’m drinking some of your beer. Gonna fucking need it. You know,”  he slams the door shut, “you’d better hope you weren’t tailed. If they find out where you live, well, I can’t protect you from that.”

A soft tss comes from what you assume is Changbin opening a can of beer. Christopher catches your eye as he reaches down to the can that Changbin placed in front of him. He looks down, then looks back up, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second, lips parting and his eyes widening in surprise. You quickly hide behind the wall, knowing you shouldn’t have spied on their conversation.

“What?” Changbin’s voice perks up for a second. “Oh my god. She’s still here?” He somehow sounds more annoyed at this and lets out an exasperated groan. “Goddammit, Chan, what happened to you? Oi,” he stresses, footsteps coming closer to the bedroom, “Get out here, this involves you too.”

“What, you thought the high heels were mine?” Chris sarcastically scoffs as you walk out of the bedroom. “Changbin, this is-“

“Yeah, I know.” Changbin cuts Christopher off, throwing his free hand up in frustration, as if he was dismissing Christopher, “trust me, I fucking know.” He grumbles out your full name and adds, “Some model from northern Japan, Korean mom, Japanese dad, right? Graduated from Todai a couple years ago; bachelor’s in economics.” He glares at you as he takes a swig of beer from his can, clicking his tongue in disapproval and muttering something under his breath. “Typical, just your fuckin’ type.”

“W-what?” You stutter out, completely floored that he knows so much about you. “Chris, how does he know all of that?” Panic starts to overtake you and your hands start to tremble.

“Babe,” he whispers, a look of pity painted on his face. Christopher stands up and walks over toward you, but you step back into the wall, waving your hands in a frenzy.

“No, no, no, don’t do that. You don’t get to do that until I know what’s happening.”

Changbin sarcastically chuckles and crushes his can. “Here we go,” he says, digging in the fridge once again. He pulls out two cans of beer and puts one of them on the corner of the counter closest to you. “You’re gonna need one of these, too.”

Your head is spinning, from the window, the skyline of Seoul seems to blur together as you try to make sense of everything that’s happening. If you understood it correctly, Christopher was indeed a drug dealer, just under Changbin in their group’s hierarchy. Hyunjin was also involved, but sold trafficked guns and other weapons in and out of the group.

Christopher went out to that house party in Itaewon last night when Changbin ordered him not to (he stressed that point several times), someone from a rival drug dealing gang saw both him and Hyunjin, snapping photos of them both, as well as a photo of you sitting next to Christopher, his arm around your shoulders, clearly enjoying yourselves.

What made it worse was that someone mistakenly spread a rumour that you and Christopher were an item, that you were a close girlfriend of his, and it put a target on your head so that they could specifically shake up Christopher. Changbin had said that he was unsure exactly how much danger you were in, but it would be best if no one knew where you were. Neither of you were to leave this apartment without someone escorting you.

A nervous laugh came bubbling up from your stomach, erupting into a full-blown, wild cackling fit. There was no way that any of this was real - you were just out with a friend last night, you left with someone else to have a one night stand, and now you were having some sort of crazy fever dream thanks to the drugs you took last night.

“This is crazy,” you say in between laughs, “Christopher, you can’t be serious. This is a joke, right?” You calm yourself, no longer laughing as you look at both Changbin and Christopher, their faces stone cold and free from expression. “Oh my god,” the realization hits you and you sink further into the couch, hoping that it will eat you alive so you don’t have to deal with this mess. “What about Minji? She ran off with Hyunjin last night. Is she okay?”

The men looked at each other with confusion. “I only heard about one woman, and that was you,” Changbin says, leaning back in his chair, throwing his arm over the back of it. “If there was someone with Hyunjin, this is the first time I’m hearing of it. What’s her family name? I’ll have one of my guys keep an eye on her.”

“Moon. Moon Minji. She models with me. Lives in the apartment across from me.” You were somewhat relieved, shaking your head in disbelief. Naturally, you were happy that Minji was safe - for now - but you couldn’t believe this was happening to you.

Changbin stands up, pulling his phone from his back pocket, “Alright. I’m gonna make a call. Don’t go anywhere, either of you.” He starts tapping on his phone and ducks off into a room on the opposite side of the kitchen.

Christopher gets up and sits next to you on the couch. He cautiously reaches his hand out to your thigh. You want to swat his hand away, but you don’t have the energy to do it. “I am so sorry,” he says in a soft tone, his voice sounding like it’ll break at any second, “If I had known, I wouldn’t have brought you here, wouldn’t have risked this.” He sounds genuinely apologetic, but you don’t really register it. He takes his free hand to brush your hair back behind your ear, rubbing his thumb soothingly on your cheek.

Honestly, this conversation had exhausted you. Your life was turned upside down because of this man, this dangerous, but wonderful man. Part of you resented him, but the way he tried to calm you by stroking your face made you less angry at him. For all the shit he put you through, his genuineness did make you forgive him - at least somewhat.

“Chris,” you start to say, looking up at him, before Changbin opens the door and loudly walks back into the room.

“Your friend’s going to be fine. I’ve got one of my best guys following her,” he interjects, walking to the fridge, grabbing another can of beer, “she’s gonna be tracked until we get this shit sorted out. Hyunjin texted me and apologized, for whatever the hell that’s worth. You two are idiots.”

Christopher sighs heavily, furrowing his brows in frustration as he looks up at Changbin. “Oh, yeah? That time we were in Shanghai? Want me to bring that up?” He drops his hand from your face and stands up.

Changbin closes the fridge door and loudly slams his unopened can of beer on the counter. “You bastard, that was entirely-” Christopher cuts him off, advancing towards him.

“Entirely what, different? You easily lost us, what, a hundred million won? Or was it three hundred?” You swivel your head around to see the two of them get in each other’s faces. “And for what, Minho?”

Whatever that meant, it snapped something inside Changbin. “You motherfucker,” he gritted, taking fistfuls of Christopher’s shirt into his hands before shoving him backwards. “I’m gonna fucking kill you. Don’t you dare bring him up like that again.”

A growl came from Christopher as he rolled up his sleeves, “It’s your fault that he got shot and you know it. You’re lucky he didn’t die.”

Changbin managed to take his elbow and ram it into the side of Christopher’s face, causing him to collide with the kitchen cabinet. He wound his arm back and threw a fist towards Christopher’s face, trying to get him one more time. He ducked, running his shoulder into the shorter man’s chest, pushing him back a few steps before he fell to the floor with an audible thud. Christopher towered over Changbin, fists tightly clenched. He knelt down and drew his right arm back, ready to deck the smaller man.

“Fuck you!” Changbin shouted as he flailed underneath Christopher, grabbing a fistful of his shirt with one of his hands, pulling his right arm to the side, winding up another punch.

You started to panic, yelling at them to stop. You did not need this happening on top of everything else. However, your words fell on deaf ears as the guys kept yelling at each other, thrashing around on the floor.

Suddenly, the movement stops, and you hear Changbin pound on Christopher’s chest. “I’m never going to forgive myself,” he chokes out, his voice laden with regret, and it almost sounds like he’s holding back tears. “I can’t even look at him without seeing him lying there, dying. And I know it’s my fault. You don’t have to fucking remind me. Knowing I almost got  Minho killed haunts me. I’d give anything to trade places with him so he didn’t have to experience that pain.”

Christopher sits back on his heels, offering Changbin a hand to sit up. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. That was a low blow, I’m just fucking panicking.” The brunette accepts his hand and sits up, his face red and slightly puffy. His eyes were red and glossy as he rolls them in your general direction.

“I’ll make sure nothing happens to either of you. I know you barely know her, but if she got hurt or killed, I know you’d never forgive yourself either.”

“Thanks,” Christopher says, pulling Changbin to his chest. “I’ll make it up to you somehow. Not by blood, by the code, yeah?” Changbin grunts in agreement, slapping his hand against Christopher’s back.

“Not by blood, by the code.” Changbin repeats back to Christopher, who is offering his hand to help Changbin stand. You could tell there was an exhaustive history between them and you were only scratching the surface of it.

“Alright,” Changbin says, setting a couple of bags down on the coffee table. “I grabbed some jjajangmyeon from that place you like and some more alcohol since I’ve been drinking all of your beer.”

“You didn’t need to do that, we have plenty in fridge in the studio,” Christopher sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, I didn’t say it was for you anyways,” Changbin continues, looking at you, “Minho’s gonna swing by in a bit. I asked him to go out and get you some clothes since you’re gonna be here for a while. I’d have done it myself, but I don’t know shit about clothes. He always goes shopping for the two of us.”

You’ve been sitting on the couch for a few hours now, barely moving. The sun was behind the building now, so you assumed it was probably some time in the early evening. Christopher was nice enough to bring you your phone so you could tell Minji that you were fine, but you were sick so you wouldn’t be around for a while. Thankfully, you didn’t have any gigs planned for about a month and a half, but you knew you’d have to get a hold of your boss eventually.

Christopher was on the couch next to you, an awkward gap apparent between the two of you. Neither of you had spoken much to each other today, conversations mostly happening between Christopher and Changbin. He has, however, kept his hand on top of yours the entire time. Before Changbin returned from his errand run, Christopher apologized to you several times, genuinely upset that he brought an innocent person into this. You were thankful that Changbin returned when he did, because if you had to listen to Christopher apologize one more time, you were ready to lose it.

“Here you go,” Changbin says as he starts emptying a paper bag, placing a couple takeout boxes of jjajangmyeon and side dishes in front of you. “I grabbed some soju and beer for us, think we could use it.”

“Haven’t you had enough beer today?” Christopher sarcastically says, reaching over to grab a pair of chopsticks and a box of food, putting both in your lap before he reaches for his own food.

“Look, man,” Changbin started, bringing a few bottles to the table, “after the day we’ve had, there ain’t enough beer in the world to deal with what’s happened. Might as well have fun for now, yeah?”

You don’t say anything and just reach for the closest bottle of soju, tilting it back and forth a couple times before opening it, lifting the bottle to your lips and taking a hearty chug. The aroma of strawberry perfumes your mouth as the alcohol burns all the way down. You didn’t really like strawberry soju, but tonight was gonna be different. You slam the bottle down on the table and smile widely. “Let’s do it.”

Christopher and Changbin are staring at you with their mouths hanging open. This is the most active you’ve been in over an hour, and it had taken them by surprise. “Alright, that’s my gal,” Changbin says with a smirk, grabbing his own bottle of soju and downing an equally long swig. He shakes his head, scrunching up his nose in disgust, and coughs, “Oh shit, that’s a terrible idea. Why the hell did I get flavoured shit?”

You grab a bottle and put it in Christopher’s hands. “Your turn,” you say before turning to open the takeout box in front of you. The warming smell of the black bean sauce brightens your mood a bit, excited to eat one of your favourite meals.  

Christopher’s pensive, although he decides to suck it up as he reaches down to a fresh bottle of soju, shaking it, “Yeah, fine, whatever,” he says, cracking open the bottle and sucking down a couple of hearty gulps. “Fuck, Changbin, blueberry?” He coughs before reorienting himself, “Really? The fuck is wrong with you?”

You stifle back a laugh, taking a bite of your jjajangmyeon. “You’ll be fine, you can do it,” you say, reaching back down to the bottle of strawberry soju in front of you. “This will help make things a bit more bearable, yeah?” You look at Christopher with a toothy smile, hoping he’ll lighten up at least a bit.

There’s a soft knock at the door, and Changbin perks up. “That’s probably Minho.” He stifles a smirk, looking down at his phone as it chirps. He gets up, walking to the door with purpose. It takes a minute, but he eventually opens the door. You casually look over your shoulder, trying not to obviously stare, noticing the small man embrace the dark-haired man that walks in. The man isn’t much taller than Changbin, maybe only a couple of inches taller. Their embrace is soft, warming, like you can tell that they care about each other.

“Hey there,” he says softly, and you catch him plant a soft kiss on Changbin’s cheek. His voice is low and calm, “I grabbed the things you asked me to grab, but are you sure you’re alright?”

“Aish,” you hear Changbin shush him, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me, baby. Come in and hang with us. I got some soju for you.”

The shorter, black-haired man comes up in front of you, “Hi, I’m Lee Minho. Changbin’s probably talked about me by now.” He bows slightly before dropping the bags he has behind the table, taking a seat across from you, opposite from the chair Changbin’s was occupying. The man grabs a bottle of soju off the table, shaking it up and down twice before cracking it open and drinking a quick swig from the bottle.

“Oh, ew,” he groans, a clear wince on his face, “Peach? Binnie, what the hell’s wrong with you?” He whines, looking at Changbin as he grimaces.

“Yeah, yeah,” Changbin waves a hand in the air dismissively as he sits back down, “I know, I wasn’t looking when I grabbed the alcohol, okay? I was a bit distracted. Fuck you guys,” he grumbles, reaching down to his soju bottle. “If you don’t like it, go to CU and get your…. oh.” He stops in his tracks, bottle halfway to his mouth. “Shit, my bad. Want me to go get something different?”

You’re about to dismiss it, but Christopher looks at Changbin, “Yeah, go get something better, especially if Minho’s gonna be here for a while. We’re gonna need it.” He sounds cold, taking a quick drink from his bottle. “We’re gonna need to stay entertained tonight somehow, yeah?” He turns to look at you, reaching out to grab your thigh again, a sly smirk on his face.

You can’t help but blush. You turn down towards your lap, grabbing a large amount of food with your chopsticks and shove it in your mouth. “Mmmpfh,” you manage to grumble out, in a seeming sense of agreement.

All of the guys share a soft chuckle, then Changbin excuses himself with a grumble before walking up to the front door. “I’ll be back in a bit, alright? Don’t go anywhere.” The door closes with a soft thud, and a few moments pass as the three of you sit there quietly.

“So,” Minho smiles, looking at both you and Christopher with purpose, “Changbin told me that you two seem to have taken a liking to each other already.”

You swear you hear Christopher choke on a mouthful of food before looking at you through the corner of his eyes. “Um,” he manages to squeak out, swallowing the food in his mouth, “I suppose you could say that? It’s only been a day, though.”

“Well, I guess you’re going to get to know each other really well here soon.” Minho shrugs his shoulders, grabbing the peach soju he was drinking earlier. “Oh,” he exclaims, beaming with a smile, “when Binnie gets back, we should play a drinking game. That’s a good way to get to know someone, isn’t it?” Admittedly, it did sound fun at the beginning. However, when you were on your third bottle of soju and Changbin and Minho were getting flirty and handsy with each other, you were a bit jealous. You and Christopher were starting to get closer and you were really feeling good, but it would be weird to be that playfully touchy-feely with someone you’ve known for less than 24 hours.

“I have an idea,” Minho turns to look at both of you, “you know what’ll help you even get closer?” He gets up, walks towards the kitchen counter and starts rifling through Changbin’s bag.

“Oi! That’s my stuff!” Changbin proclaims from his seat.

“Relax, babe, not like you don’t go through my stuff,” Minho quips, waving his hand dismissively in the air. “Ah,” he exclaims, “found ‘em.” He comes back to the coffee table and puts a film canister on the table, the container rattling the entire time. Changbin sighs and rolls his eyes, realizing what’s in it.

“Aish,” he groans, “what is with you and this stuff when you drink?”

“Oh, shut up. You still love me, especially after one of these.” Minho says, with a laugh, suggestively looking at Changbin for a moment. He pops the lid of the canister and pours out the contents on to the table. Out comes a few baby blue tablets, similar to the ones you took last night.

A memory of you sitting on Christopher’s face, struggling to stay upright, shouting his name, flashes through your head. Your face gets hot and you look down, visibly flustered. He must have noticed, because Christopher squeezes your thigh, then moves his hand up to your shoulder. “What’s up?” He asks.

“Oh,” you look up at him, then back down to your lap. “The pills just reminded me of something.”

Christopher looks at the table, letting his thoughts register for a moment. It must have hit him, because he sucks in a breath through his teeth and giggles a bit. “Ah, yeah, last night, right?”

“Oh my god,” you groan with frustration and put your head into your hands.

“Hold up,” Minho perks up, a giddy smile on his face, “What happened last night?”

“That’s a bit rude, Min.” Changbin says in a disappointed tone, playfully shoving Minho’s shoulder.

“You both know that I’m nosy. So, what happened last night?”

Christopher rolls his eyes, then sits back on his hands. “We took some ecstasy and had a couple lines last night, so we were rolling pretty hard. We felt pretty good, one thing led to another, you know.” You feel eyes bore into the back of your head, and turn to look at Christopher. He’s got a big grin on his face, clearly happy with himself. “Any time I can make someone shout my name at the top of their lungs is a good time.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groan and drop your forehead to the top of the coffee table, sighing in embarrassment. You sit back up and glare at Christopher, ready to be mad at him, but the way he smiles melts any anger you had towards him.

“Nice,” Minho hums as Changbin nods his head in approval. He grabs the pills on the table, and gives one to everyone. The guys immediately pop theirs into their mouths, and you sit there, pill in hand, just staring at it.

“You alright?” Christopher asks, rubbing a hand on your back. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, baby.” The word ‘baby’ slipped from his lips naturally; he clearly didn’t mean to say it, it just happened. “Uh, um, sorry.”

The next thing you know, the pill is halfway down your throat and you’re finishing up your third bottle of soju. “It’s all good, baby,” you say, jokingly mocking Christopher. You turn to look at him, and give him a wink. He smiles back to you, scooting himself up next to you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Ugh,” Changbin grumbles, rolling his head back, “you’re already insufferable.”

Christopher picks up a lid from an empty soju bottle and tosses it at the brunette. “Oh, shut up. You and Minho were all over each other just a few minutes ago. Not to mention, you’re going to be even worse once the E kicks in. The last time we were down in Busan and we all were tripping and you started fucking each other in front of me, remember that?”

“You enjoyed watching it, though, quite a bit from what I recall, “Changbin quips, “I very clearly remember you whipping out your dick and taking things into your own hands while we were putting on a show.” Hearing this makes your eyes widen in surprise, spinning your head to the side to look at Christopher, who’s blushing and covering his face with his hand.

Minho starts laughing really hard, and it causes the frown on Changbin’s face to crack into a smile. “Aish, you’re so cute when you laugh.” He leans over and gives the dark-haired man a peck on the cheek. “And I don’t care who knows how I feel about it,” he smirks as he turns to look at Christopher, raising his eyebrow in jest.

“Yeah?” Christopher taunts, slipping his hand down your shoulder to your waist and pulling you closer. “You should hear her when I -“ Before he can finish his sentence, you take your elbow and dig it into his ribs.

“They don’t need to know everything,” you whine.

“Yeah,” Christopher smirks, “They’ll probably get an earful of it tonight, anyways.”

Both of the men across the table groan in feigned disgust. “Anyway,” Minho stresses, trying to change the subject, “Why don’t we bust out a couple beers and play some truth or dare?” Changbin stands up, walking to the fridge. “Sounds like we’ve already opened up quite a bit, yeah?”

“I’m on it, I’ll grab a couple for everyone. Don’t say I don’t do anything nice for you,” he scoffs as he enters the kitchen. Minho starts putting all of the emptied soju bottles, except for one, in a bag. The last bottle, he takes and lays it on its side, putting it in the middle of the table. You look at the bottle, then turn to look up at Christopher.

“Hey,” you whisper in his ear, “was that story actually true?”

Christopher blushes again and stifles a laugh, “Yeah, yeah it was true. Not my proudest moment, but have you looked at them? Anyone would’ve done it, too.”

His honesty makes you laugh a bit, and you lean up next to him, nuzzling your head up against his shoulder. He’s warm, and comfortable, and he rests his head on top of yours, reaching down to grab your hand.  Even if you were stuck here in this near-stranger’s house for longer than you’d like to be stuck, the little moments of comfort like this were helpful.

“Alright,” Changbin chirps up, setting down a couple cans of beer in front of you and Christopher. “Perk up, lovebirds, let’s party.”

“Okay!” Minho excitedly claps his hands together before cracking open his beer. “We’ll spin the bottle, and whomever it lands on gets to choose between telling the truth about something or a dare. If you back out, you’ve gotta take a drink of your beer. Got it?”

The game started off innocent enough, all of you were sticking to truths, and the questions were relatively mild. However, things started to take a turn when the drugs started to kick in. Minho wouldn’t stop touching Changbin, his fingers constantly trailing over the brunette’s chest. When it’s his turn, he spins the bottle, landing on Changbin.

“Dare,” Changbin says, confidently looking directly into Minho’s eyes.

“You’re gonna regret that,” Minho says, smirking as he turns to Christopher. “I dare you to make out with Christopher, if he’s okay with it, of course.”

“What?” Christopher spits out in shock.

“Aish, baby,” Changbin groans, “Why do you get like this every time we roll? You just want to watch me make out with other men and make them miserable.”

Minho grins, leaning over to Changbin to kiss his cheek. “It’s because you’re hot and you know it.”

You can feel a look of complete bewilderment being plastered on your face. Your mind couldn’t help but wonder, ‘Was this seriously about to happen? Have they done this before?’ Almost as if it was on cue, Christopher turns to look at you.

“Are you okay with it? I know we’re not, like, dating or anything, but,” his voice trails off and he bites his bottom lip in, darting his eyes down to the floor.

“Yeah,” the word slips from your mouth before you have a chance to actually think about it. You were admittedly curious, thinking it would be kind of interesting to watch Christopher be a bit physical with someone else.

Christopher gives you a quick peck on your cheek before he turns to Changbin, “Do your worst.”

Without saying a word, Changbin crawls over towards Christopher, straddling his lap and taking his hands to Christopher’s face. The smaller man presses his lips to the blond’s lips, almost timidly at first, until Christopher takes his hands and grabs Changbin’s hips, pulling him in. “You can do better than that,” he whispers.

“Oh shit,” Minho says, leaning onto the table with a grin. “Binnie hates being teased, Channie.”

Changbin grumbles under his breath, reaching his hands up to Christopher’s hair, pulling his head back as he grinds down into his lap. Christopher lets out a small whimper from the pain and looks up at Changbin with half-lidded eyes. “Don’t talk back to me, hyung,” the brunette warns with a serious tone.

Changbin licks Christopher’s bottom lip before taking it in between his teeth. He bites it somewhat firmly, eliciting a gasp out of the man beneath him, then goes to let his tongue explore his mouth. The men let their hands travel on each other while kissing with a burning passion.

Admittedly, this was one of the hottest things you’d ever seen, all of this was causing you to feel warm and tingly as you watched it. This is what Christopher looked like when the two of you were rolling around in bed last night, and it was hot. You made a mental note to take control of your makeout session and to pull his hair the next time you were able to.

“Oh my god,” Minho groans, “Okay, that’s enough, I can’t watch anymore, it’s too good.” He sits back and takes a drink of beer from his can, dramatically fanning himself with his free hand. Changbin pulls away from Christopher and smirks, and Christopher has a blissed out smile on his face.

“You’re not my type, but I’ll admit you’re good,” Christopher says, wiping his lips with the back side of his hand.

“Yeah, I know,” Changbin says with a laugh as he gets up and walks back to his spot. He sits down, a wide grin on his face, before he takes a hearty drink from his beer. “Minho tells me all the time.”

Christopher turns to you, gets a bit closer, and pulls your face to his, kissing you passionately for a good few seconds. He breaks away from the kiss and moves to your ear. “I want you,” he whispers quietly, so Minho and Changbin can’t hear, “I’m going to make you mine again tonight.”

His words make you blush and smile. He pulls away from you and takes a drink from his beer. “That was something else,” you say, looking at Changbin, then Minho, then Christopher. “You’re all… close?”

Minho laughs, “Nah, we’re not normally like this. When we’ve been partying a little hard, though, things get interesting between us. Nothing more than this, though. I don’t wanna share my Binnie that much, just enough to make him squirm and come crawling back to me.”

Changbin rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Yeah, you’re insufferable when we party hard like this. It’s always, ‘Binnie, make out with me, Binnie, make out with that hot guy over there, Binnie, Binnie, Binnie’ with you.” Minho playfully shoves Changbin’s shoulder and laughs.

“I wouldn’t do it if you didn’t like it, or me, so much,” he says, taking another drink of his beer. “Alright, Channie, it’s your turn.”

“Okay,” Christopher says, reaching out to spin the bottle. It takes a couple rotations, then it slows, and stops, pointing at you.

“Oh,” you say, looking at the bottle, then looking at Christopher. You weren’t feeling brave enough to do a dare, so you say “truth” with an upward inflection, almost like you were asking a question.

“You’re no fun,” Minho pouts. “Make it a good question, Channie.”

“Hmm,” Christopher brings his index finger to his chin, thinking for a moment. “I’ve got it, what’s the most embarrassing sex story you’ve got?”

Your face flushes and you look down to the floor in embarrassment. You begrudgingly admit there was the time a couple years ago with your last boyfriend, Jisung, that you had gotten a bit too eager and a bit too drunk, sneaking off to the nightclub’s washroom. Your boyfriend had propped you up on the sink, one of your legs was up in the air and over his shoulder. Right when you two were in the middle of having the fuck of your lives, some guy had walked in and immediately walked back out, since neither of you had remembered to lock the door. There was a definite walk of shame as both of you immediately got dressed and left as soon as possible.

Christopher busts up laughing, because apparently he’s walked in on something similar to that before. “I mean, it’s kinda hot to see something like that in public, but if it happened to me, I’d be mortified. I’d never show my face in public again.”

Changbin looks at Minho and grins, “Yeah, sounds like that one time I came back from Taiwan and you were too excited to see me that you couldn’t wait until we got home and demanded that I take you in the airport parking lot.”

Minho laughs in response, playfully slapping Changbin’s shoulder, then moving to spin the soju bottle. “You had a good time, so you don’t get to complain.” The bottle spins, eventually landing on Christopher. “What’s it gonna be, Mr. Voyeur?”

“Get bent,” Christopher scoffs, “let’s do a dare this time.”

“Ooh, fun,” Minho says. He opens his mouth to speak, but Changbin leans over to whisper something in his ear, slyly looking at you as he whispers. “Oh, good idea,” Minho chirps, grinning deviously at the both of you. “Go into the studio and record the vocals of you both having sex, then play it back for us when you’re done.”

“What?” You yell out in surprise, your face turning beet red.

“Challenge accepted,” Christopher says cooly, grabbing your hand and pulling you up before you can wrap your head around it.

“Wait, I don’t get to say anything about this?” You shriek out, slightly panicked, as you stand up and follow Christopher.

“C’mon, baby,” he says soothingly, “I’ve got you.” He stops in front of the door that Changbin was in earlier, opening it and turning the lights on. He guides you through the door, closing the door behind you. “Just sit in that chair right there,” he points to the chair in front of the control panel. “I’m gonna get some stuff set up behind the mic and then we can get started, okay?”

If you hadn’t taken the ecstasy tablet earlier and had a few drinks, you definitely would’ve said no to being recorded, but you figured it would be funny to see the reaction on Minho and Changbin’s faces when they heard both of you. Something about it really got you excited. Christopher adjusted some things in the recording booth, then came back out to the control panel, opening his laptop and flipping some switches on.

“Okay,” he says as he turns back to you, reaching his hands out to yours. “Let’s go.”

You let Christopher pull you up and lead you into the recording booth. Your stomach was doing backflips as you entered the room, taking in the atmosphere. It was calm and relaxing; the spotlights were dim and it made everything seem comforting. The foam padded on the walls absorbed most of the ambient noise, making everything seem abnormally quiet.

Christopher sat down on the padded chair and pulled you into his lap. You crawled on top of him, straddling his hips. The positioning was probably going to be uncomfortable, but you didn’t mind. He takes his hands and slides them up your shirt, pulling you closer to him. “Let’s give them a show, baby,” he says in a low whisper before he brings his lips to yours, kissing you with an intense need.

You decided to not waste any time, reaching down to pull the shirt you were wearing off, tossing it behind Christopher. Your bra follows in succession, and the man beneath you sighs as he stares at you, slowly looking you up from your torso to your eyes, “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He kisses you again, this time in short pecks, before he moves his fingers to grab the waistband of your pants. You get up on to your feet, helping him pull your joggers and panties off, then go to undo his jeans, slipping them along with his boxers down to his ankles.

Christopher sucks in a breath as his cock springs up, free from his clothing. “I’ve been sitting out there so hard since Changbin wrecked me. I can’t wait to have you ride me, baby.” He looks down at you, his eyes completely glazed over as he bites his lip.

“I’m gonna make you feel amazing,” you say in a breathy voice, kneeling down in front of Christopher, your face right up next to his cock. He looks at you, eyes widening, about to say something, but you take him into your mouth before he can say anything. You slowly work him completely into your mouth, and he lets out a primal groan as he throws his head back, gripping the sides of his chair with a vise grip.

“Fucking hell,” he moans out, “that’s incredible, baby, don’t stop.”

You come back up, sucking your cheeks in and letting his cock leave your mouth with an audible pop. “I want to feel you, too. I’m just getting you prepped.” you whisper in a sultry voice as you crawl back over him. Christopher looks up at you with a pleading face, upset that you stopped giving him head. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll give you all the attention you need later. I want you right now.” As you say that, you reach down and guide him inside of you.

Christopher grabs your hips, helping get himself into you. As you slide down onto him, there’s a warmth that spreads throughout you, making you feel like your nerves are on overdrive. A breathy, shaky moan unintentionally escapes your lips. You open your eyes and look down at Christopher; the blissed out look on his face is something you could drink in for days. He looked like only wanted you, that you two were meant to be together, at least for now.

He breathes out your name as you slowly grind your hips down into his, then take them up, almost removing yourself from him completely. You bite your lip, smiling at Christopher, before you thrust yourself right back down on him.

“Fuck,” he groans, digging his fingernails into your hips as his chin falls to his chest. “Baby, you’re gonna be the death of me,” he says as he looks back up at you, taking one of his hands to the back of your head, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. It’s passionate and messy and you can’t get enough of it; the way his tongue rolls around in your mouth as you ride him up and down causes your nerves to tingle from head to toe.

Just when you think you have enough stimulation to start building you up to your orgasm, Christopher removes his hand from your head, interrupts your kiss to lick his thumb, and he starts rubbing it up against your clit. Your eyes snap open and roll backwards as you groan into his mouth, your entire body starting to feel like a supernova with all of the stimulation.

“I’m gonna make sure you come with me,” he breathes out, continuing to roll his thumb in circles against you. “You’re mine and only mine. Fuck,” he moans as you grind up on him, “Tell me who you belong to.”

Your mind is reeling from all of the stimulation, the ecstasy and the alcohol causing everything to feel magnified, like you would never feel something so good in your entire life again. “You, Christopher, you,” you breathe out, panting heavily, “I belong to you.”

“Yeah,” he groans, taking control and thrusting in and out of you faster, “You’re mine. Now come for me, baby.”

Something about the way he demanded you to come made all the tension inside of you release, caused all of your nerves to sing in harmony for a moment. Christopher did one more rotation of his thumb against your clit, and that was it, it was enough. Your orgasm completely took control of your body, making you arch your back and writhe against him. You shouted his name so loud, you were sure that Changbin and Minho could hear it through all of the soundproofing in the studio.

“Good girl,” Christopher praises, breathing heavily, “I’m gonna come inside you, baby, I want you to take it all for me.” His voice seems like it’s across the room, like you’re so far away from him that it’s difficult to hear. Everything, even the air, feels soft against you. You manage to mumble out something, although you’re not quite sure what it was, as you collapse into Christopher. His breathing speeds up as he digs his fingernails into your back as he grinds up into you one last time, and you feel his cum fill you up.

It takes a few minutes for both of you to come back to reality. When you do, you notice how sore and sticky you both are, like you could use a shower right now. You nuzzle up to Christopher’s neck, giving it a few light kisses before you sit up and look at him. “Wow,” you say, “that was mind-blowing.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, looking at you with a silly grin on his face, “that was somehow better than last night. But I definitely need a shower. Who would’ve thought that this studio got so hot?” Both of you laugh in agreement, and peel yourselves off of each other. You both get dressed and walk out into the control room; Christopher fumbles with his laptop and turns off some of the switches on the panelling.

“Shall we?” He says, walking up to the door. “We can make them listen to it in here.” He opens the door for you, and you both see Minho kneeling on the floor in front of Changbin, his head bobbing up and down in a familiar motion.

“Shit! Minho, stop!” Changbin exclaims with a whine, trying to get Minho off of him. They fumble around a bit as you turn around in secondhand embarrassment.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Christopher groans, “Really? You couldn’t wait until we went to bed?”

“You two are loud,” Minho whines in protest, “And with you and Binnie earlier I couldn’t help it!”

“Oh my god,” you groan, bringing your hands to rub your temples.

“Well, the recording’s saved to my laptop, so we fulfilled the dare,” Christopher says before grabbing your hand and walking you both towards his room, “We’re gonna shower and go to bed. Have fun, lovebirds.”

“Fuck off,” you hear Changbin groan as you both walk into Christopher’s bedroom.

“Well, that was,” your voice trails off, still in disbelief from what you had seen, “unexpected?”

Christopher groans again, removing his clothes, “Nah, they do this all the time. If it’s just the three of us and we’ve been drinking or taking drugs, Minho can’t control himself around Changbin. It doesn’t bother me, but I’m sorry you had to witness it firsthand. C’mon, let’s go shower.” He wiggles his fingers in a come-hither motion before he slips off into the washroom.

“It’s fine,” you say, disrobing as you make your way to the washroom. Christopher is already in the walk-in shower, setting the temperature to something tolerable. “It was unexpected, but it didn’t bother me. They obviously care about each other and I respect that.”

Christopher laughs, motioning for you to get in. “Yeah, they’re really good for each other.” You step in the shower behind him, enjoying the warm water as it splashes on your skin. “Changbin was an absolute asshole before he met Minho, though. You might think he’s abrasive now, but he was completely cold and closed off back then.”

You stick your head under the shower head, wetting your hair down, then turn to look up at Christopher. “I’ve known Changbin since we were in middle school. He was always quiet and nobody really wanted to be friends with him because he was so standoffish. Always rubbed people the wrong way.

“We didn’t mean to become kkangpae, it was just a matter of survival. Producing music got us nowhere financially, but one of the connections we had said we could make enough money to live if we just sold some stuff now and then. Turns out, we were really good at it. But the bigger you grow, the harder you fall.” Christopher sighs, sticking his head under the water for a minute before he leans up against the wall.

“A couple years ago, we were in Shanghai. Changbin and I were ordered to secure this big deal with the Triad, worth a couple hundred million won. It was a big fucking deal, and incredibly dangerous. Shit went south really fast. One of the new guys, Minho, was ordered to come with us to learn the ropes. He wasn’t supposed to come with us when we met with the Triad’s higher ups, but Changbin was angry that shit wasn’t going right and he ordered Minho to come with as a ‘learning experience’.”

You listened attentively with bated breath, watching the water bounce off of Christopher’s skin as you focused on his story. Based on what you heard earlier between the argument between Christopher and Changbin, you knew this wasn’t going to go well.

“It was horrible,” Christopher sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “The Triads were pulling out of the deal and Changbin got pissed. I’d never seen him so angry in my life. We were working on leaving, trying to get away before things got violent, but one of the guys on their side was trigger happy - must’ve been new too. He pulled out a pistol and aimed it directly at Changbin. Fucking Minho…”

Christopher sucked in some air through his gritted teeth, and you could tell that reliving this experience was painful for him. He was biting back tears and his eyes were turning red. “Minho pushed him out of the way, which is what you’re supposed to be willing to do for your superior, but he got shot in the lung and in the leg because of it. Changbin was furious, he wasn’t gonna let them kill one of his men. He had his gun in his hand, ready to shoot at them, before I intervened, somehow getting us out of there. Honestly, I don’t know how we made it out of there alive. Minho was in the hospital in Shanghai for a couple of months, then was sent to a rehabilitation facility here in Seoul when he was stable enough to travel.”

Christopher looks over at you, seeing the look of concern on your face. “He’s fine now, but he doesn’t work in the field anymore. Changbin helped nurse him back to health once he was back home in Seoul, visiting him at the rehabilitation centre every day for three months straight. I think there was something going on between them before Shanghai, but after they spent all of that time with each other, they really fell hard. They’ve been living together ever since. Changbin doesn’t want Minho out of his sight, understandably.”

“Holy shit,” you say, shaking your head, “that’s horrible. I never would have guessed.”

“Yeah,” Christopher says, standing back upright and wiping under his eyes, “this life isn’t for the weak-willed. A couple of brothers have died just in the past two years. Most of us have gotten shot or stabbed or had the shit beaten out of us. We’ve got enough money to bribe the cops to stay off our backs, but it’s exhausting to never have the comfort of security. I’m so sorry to have brought you into this. I never wanted to drag another civilian into this.”

You reach up to his face, stroking his cheek with your thumbs. “It’s alright, Christopher. We couldn’t have predicted this. Now, we just need to get through it one day at a time.”

He looks up to you and smiles weakly. “Well, in that case, I hope I can make you happy during the time we’re stuck here. I’m here for you.”

“I’m here for you, too. How about we finish up showering and go to bed? It’s gotta be late.”

“That sounds like a plan,” he says, leaning down to give you a short, soft kiss.

You wake up in Christopher’s bed, wearing an oversized, well worn t-shirt of his. The voices of Changbin and Christopher float in from under the closed door, but you can’t really make out exactly what they’re saying. After a minute of slowly waking up, you slip on the pair of joggers Christopher loaned to you yesterday and head out to the kitchen.

“Morning,” you groggily say as you make your way to the countertop.

“Oh, morning. Did we wake you?” Christopher says in a hushed voice, standing between the island counter and the refrigerator. Changbin is sitting on a barstool on the opposite side for Christopher. You look around for Minho and see that he’s still passed out on the couch, softly snoring away.

“No, no, I needed to get up.”

“Ah, alright. I’ve got some stuff in the fridge. Changbin was nice enough to grab some groceries and prepped food for us, so I’ll make something nice for lunch in a bit. There’s some mugs up here and I have coffee pods for the maker right here,” he pulls open a drawer and there’s an array of various different types of coffee, which is just what you needed.

The idea of a home-cooked meal sounded really nice. You wondered if Christopher was a good cook or not; judging by the fact that his fridge was pretty empty yesterday, you assume that he’s probably too busy to cook, and likely eats a lot of takeout, you weren’t confident that he was good at cooking.

You fumble a coffee pod into the maker and grab a mug from one of the cupboards. Christopher gives you a soft peck on the top of your head and turns back to Changbin.

“Anyway, it wasn’t a big deal,” Changbin continues their conversation, taking a swig of coffee from his cup. “After your call with Xiaojian the night before last, Han reached out to me and said he’d come here later today to take care of the deal you’d been working on. He just got back from Beijing last night.”

Han. Hearing that family name made you do a quick double take. It had been a year since you and Han Jisung had split, coming to a mutual agreement that your relationship wasn’t going anywhere. You were busy travelling thanks to your career, and he had just taken up a big job that he didn’t like to talk about. The way he acted over it, you assumed he was probably having an affair and just used his new job as a cover.

The coffee maker made a gentle ting noise as it finished brewing your cup. You take the mug and immediately bring it up to your lips, grateful for the warm beverage to help wake you up.

“Han?” Christopher questions, shifting his weight on to one foot. “You really trusted Han Jisung with that?”

Holy shit. You spit out your coffee as soon as it touches your lips and haphazardly slam the mug on to the counter. “I’m sorry,” you exclaim, “Did you say Han Jisung?” There was absolutely no way that they were talking about your ex-boyfriend. No way. He had a relatively common name, but hearing it still shocked you.

Changbin and Christopher turn to look at you, surprised by your question. “Yeah, Christopher says, an alarmed tone to his voice, “You probably don’t know him, though. He’s quiet, introverted, and doesn’t get attached to people.”

Oh shit.

“The Jisung I knew was introverted but he would bleach his hair every month or so; he likes to stick out a bit from everyone else. Looks cute when he eats because his cheeks puff up like a squirrel. He also produces music and he’s about your height.” You ramble off random facts you remembered about him, but the more you divulged, the wider Changbin’s eyes got.

“Fucking squirrel,” Changbin sighs. “How do you know him?”

Your heart sinks into your stomach as you look at Changbin, the look on his face making you uneasy. “We dated for a few years before he left me for a new job. I thought he was just saying that because he was having an affair and felt guilty, though.”

“Shit,” Changbin sighs, and lets his head fall into his hands. “He said he had broken up with his girlfriend when he joined up with us. She was a model, too.”

Christopher looks mortified. “What?” He shakes his head and looks at you, wide-eyed and taken aback. “You dated Han?”

Just when you thought things couldn’t get any worse this week, it seems like your expectations had been lowered yet again.

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chris bang smut #skz smut #stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #bang chan x reader #chris bang x reader #drug dealer au #i am so emotional over this chapter holy shit #putting the bang in bang chan lol #changbin x minho #seo changbin x lee minho #step out do what you want #skzsmutnet #skzsmutnetwork #wherevermyway

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Well. In light of the recent vanessa fic, I am going to request a few things. How about Helena going to MC's high school reunion?

WARNINGS: Intolerable sexist arseholes Referenced rape culture Blood and minor violence Written by: @evoedbd ******************************************

“Helena… my feet hurt.” Kya’s soft, plaintive voice rung like gunshots in Helena’s ears. To hear that Kya was in pain caused a war of sensations within the Sorceress, turning her chest into a battlefield as she aimed to pick out her own thoughts amidst the din. The music was too loud. All pulsing beats and pop hits that all bled into one another in an unpleasant screech. With all the beauty Kya’s people could capture, the fact they abused that power to capture such meaningless garble was bad enough, but the songs that Helena’s ears had picked out went beyond this. The images of men taking what they pleased, or endlessly fucking hoes and capping foes… it set her teeth on edge. Why would anybody wish to put a cap on someone they disliked so much? It was absolutely beyond her. After all, she had seen the selfishness of humanity. She had seen people who would do precisely what the songs fantasized about. She had been one of those prizes. The pet. The mess left behind once a tyrant had finished with her for the night. She had been the violated girl dragging herself across the floors because she couldn’t walk, trailing blood. Why did some of Kya’s people find this concept worth celebrating? How many even knew what they danced to? “Helena?” This time, Kya’s voice was pleading. A gentle touch to Helena’s ravaged senses. This was accompanied by the lightest touch to her forearm, fingertips begging for more yet restraining themselves until Helena gave consent. The Sorceress had to close her eyes, to stop watching and picture a much calmer place. An open field, filled with flowers that had no name, not in this world. Flowers woven through black hair, accompanying laughter that became wings for Helena’s soul. She didn’t particularly want to open her eyes to the gyrating crowds. Around her, she could feel a thousand candles, each flickering in time with the sea of sorry, middle-aged bodies awkwardly trying to reclaim their youth. All dressed in finery above their means as they tried to convince everyone of their success and happiness, even as they reeked of misery. An ocean of people, all smiling politely whilst firing knives from their tongue, shooting daggers from their eyes. Alcohol flowing a little too freely, too dangerously. Control, so willingly abandoned. It was as if none of them knew its value. As if none of these people had ever seen or experienced control torn away completely, until even the breath a body took was at another’s whim. Then there were the lights. A spinning ball reflected everything, casting a thousand fragments of light across the floor, growing larger as they grew further from the centre. Spinning chaos across the wooden floors, illuminating the deep blue lighting, catching in the mist across the dancing masses. An unnatural mist summoned by machines… and Kya said her people possessed no magic. “Helena… are you with me?” The longing to answer hit her harder than a boulder from a catapult against a crumbling castle wall. Gods, how she wanted to open her eyes and find only one person before her. Yet, she was surrounded; drowning in the sea of bodies as the unnatural mist lapped at her ankles. As elbows collided with her, or fingers nipped at the bottom of her hair like vultures testing the fight left in their meat. Her heart pounded, beating against the cage of her chest much like how her magic pulsed with her fears. Limbs tingled; fingers began to move on instinct. Then, warmth. So much warmth. Enough that she gasped. Instantly, her lungs filled with air; her nose with that delicious mix she had never quite learned. Something soft, something smoky and then a hint of spice. Always, it was sweet. So very, very intoxicatingly sweet… but not sugary. The underlying bitterness of coffee tempered sweetness so deliciously that Helena found herself devoured by her craving for that scent. A second inhale gave her more, slowly begun to redirect her roaming senses to a singular focus. It was enough for her to open her eyes. “Welcome back.” A kind voice fell from naked lips. The smile upon them was small, nothing intended for the world to see. A secret amidst the crowd, the last life jacket on the Titanic. Just seeing it was enough for Helena to be saved. Shining grey eyes accompanied that encouraging little smile. Adoration glistened in beautiful grey depths, outshining the tinges of concern playing flecks in bluestone. In the swirling lights and dulled room, stone was more akin to gems than cobble, captivating Helena’s attention for far longer than society deemed polite. She could care less. Museums held marble statues of deities past, depictions of Aphrodite to stare at for hours. Marble was incomparable to the greys, Aphrodite a hag compared to the graceful woman donning such a flowing black dress. Elegance in its purest simplicity. “As if I could ever be parted from you.” Helena gave her best attempt at a purr. It was effective, given the creep of pink over Kya’s pale cheeks. Pale, not bloodless, Helena reminded herself. Bloodless was danger. It was the colour Kya had gone after the Queen’s spell struck her. It was the colour Kya had been when the Queen held a blade to her throat, when the Queen tormented Helena into confessing every pain, tried to make Sorceress scream and kneel. Tried to break her. Bloodless was the Witch Queen leering over a terrified girl, or ordering her most loyal man to ensure said girl was prepared… Helena flinched. Faster than Helena could blink, Kya’s hands left her, gathering in front of said woman’s chest. Kya held her hands there patiently, as if they were to be bound. Somehow, the speed and implications of such a gesture did not spark further fear within Helena, did not reignite the painful memories lapping at the edge of her consciousness. How such gestures could be made soft and welcoming, appealing even, still befuddled her. Flummoxed, her breath caught, even as Kya spoke. “Helena, I’m going to grab your tie, ok? I won’t pull, and my hands won’t move until I know you are ok. If you need to grab me, that’s ok. I know you won’t hurt me. We can just sway.” “The music is too upbeat for such a slow dance.” Came Helena’s rebuttal, even as her body moved to follow Kya’s suggestion. Cautiously, she gathered Kya into her chest, holding the otherworldly beauty there as if the world might snatch her away. Beneath Helena’s pale skin magic simmered. It heated her veins, writhing and bubbling like serpents of heated tar. She could feel the sparks escaping her control, trapped between her skin and her silken black button up. Kya had expressed her appreciation for Helena’s suit, several times, yet Helena had not seen the appeal until just now. The darkness of her shirt slimmed her down a little, whilst also concealing the fact she was sweating bullets. Her turquoise suit jacket was cut to perfection, emphasising both the strength of her shoulders and her feminine curves, without drawing attention to an overly generous bust. The matching pants fit her like a second skin, showing off impossibly long legs right to heels which meant business. Not only did they elevate her above the heads of many men, they also screamed womanly power. That she could, and would, step on any fool who crossed her path. Then, there was her crisp white tie… the very tie currently embraced between Kya’s gentle fingers. “Who cares about the music? We make our own rules, babe, always have. This was meant to be something fun, Helena. I didn’t think it’d be like this. I just thought it’d be romantic. Like going to prom with my soulmate, instead of some boy who expected me to finish the night on the backseat of his car.” “That boy dare-“ “He didn’t try to physically force me. He was confused as to why I wouldn’t, tried to convince me verbally, but he never laid a hand on me. He wasn’t a bad person, just an ignorant one. He was influenced by the wrong people. He actually wrote me an apology. It doesn’t makes my memory of prom the best.” “Yeah, had a bitch, but she ain’t bad as you. So hit me up when you passing through. I’ll give you something big enough to tear your ass in two” “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!” Kya exploded, her wrath erupting in an enraged shout. Her voice carried, drawing countless gazes to the human embodiment of furious flames about to claim their penance. Kya’s entire body trembled, almost as if her growls were causing her to vibrate, and her cheeks took on a hue often associated with a devil. The fire in her eyes seemed poised to devour the world in its search for vengeance, yet Kya tempered it to three precise culprits. Three large men, all crowding around an uncomfortable-looking DJ who cringed as the song continued to play across a stagnant dance floor. “What’s wrong? Don’t like the music, dyke?” The first man sneered, his voice grating from between crooked teeth. His mates laughed, playfully jabbing him in his well-padded arms, hooting their drunken approval. His large belly jiggled as he laughed. Helena’s eye was drawn to his shirt, specifically the valiant efforts of a single thread stretched between a disconnected button and said shirt. “You’ve been playing rape culture bullshit for over half an hour. Do you even know what half of this shit means? Slip her a Molly? That is roofies! Drugging a woman’s drink to sleep with her, cause that’s totally sexy. That Nirvana song? It is literally about a rape victim. Did you idiots even stop to think that some people here might have gone through that?” Kya’s accusations were sharp, to the point, a jab of a blade straight to the ribcage. “We thought it was setting the mood. Isn’t your bitch DTF? She looks the type.” The second man taunted, giving a poor attempt at a suggestive wiggle of his brows. This man appeared more in shape, lithe, with the veins standing stark beneath his muscles. However, the stench of alcohol was only smothered by the copious amounts of noisme body spray he stained his wrinkled shirt with. “This isn’t the 1800s, dude. Women have the right to get married and be together outside of a Pornhub video.” Kya’s tone dropped along with her brows, her expression challenging, daring the men to come up with a retort worthy of her. “It isn’t rape if the bitch wants it.” The third man jeered. Unlike his counterparts, he appeared clean and put together, something Helena might have even called attractive before he opened his mouth. A good-looking man, ruined by his horrific mouth or corrupt by the company he kept. “What happened to you three? How can you be so cruel as to deliberately target someone just for existing? I know you’ve been watching us and noticed Helena’s reactions.” Kya’s words struck Helena to the core. Suddenly everything made too much sense. How the songs had seemed to only get worse and worse, their violations and sexist attitude more crudely represented. More stark. How the music had steadily grown louder and louder, until their sounds had burned into Helena’s consciousness. Until they became shadows which she could not be free of. Shadows where leering eyes hid, a pride of lions or a pack of wolves slowly circling their prey. What she had dismissed as a trickle of sweat down her back now stood out, an instinctual twinge, a warning. One she had not taken heed of. It left her wondering, was anywhere truly safe for her aside from Kya’s arms? Even in this strange new world, where nobody knew her crimes, she found herself persecuted. Had coming here truly been the new start she believed it to be? Or had she just fled her own insecurity into a pit of newer, wiser vipers whilst she played catch up for over thirty years of missing knowledge? “This is America, we have the right to listen to what we want.” “You have a constitutional right not to be a colossal dick.” Kya fired back without pause. This earned several snickers from around the room at the man’s expense. She wasn’t done, not even close. Kya continued, launching into a scolding with enough disgust in her tone to cow the watching crowds. “After everything she has done for this damn country, hell, the world, she deserves ONE night without some douchebags throwing shit at her. All we wanted was to come and have a lovely night out, not cop sexual harassment from a failed security guard, an alcoholic and a walking advertisement for how not to be a man all trying to relive their high school glory days.” “What? She got bored of servicing all the real men and went for her own bitch to boss around instead?” The second man taunted, snickering loudly at Kya’s repulsed expression. The expression was barely a flicker on the way to a smile. No, a smile implied genuine joy and happiness. Kya’s expression was something far darker. Ink dropped into water, sinking to the bottom of the glass. Purity tainted by malicious intent. Helena internally flinched. That expression was unlike anything she had seen from Kya before, save when Kya dealt with the Queen. It was the closest Kya could ever come to such wickedness; the closest Helena could bare to see her fall. “Oh I get it now. This is about your inferiority complex that no woman as gorgeous as Helena would want to be within ten feet of you unless it was to deliver a restraining order.” Kya’s voice was so calm, so crisp and clear, yet somehow a sneer. Something that even the Witch Queen could never truly pull off. It all happened so fast. Faster than Helena could even react. One moment, Kya was snarling in the face of some asshole, the next he had reached out in a sloppy attempt to smack her. Kya was faster. In a blink, she had grabbed the man’s wrist, grip unyielding, stepped into his space and twisted her body. Just like Helena had taught her. The man went plummeting to the ground in a flurry of ill-fitting formalwear and disgusting body spray. The collision was bone-jarring, filling the room with an audible thud. Before anybody could do anything more than gasp, the third man launched at Kya’s exposed back. Helena’s heart leapt into her throat, her magic burning beneath her skin in preparation to unleash. It was a pointless endeavour. Kya moved naturally, as fluidly as a trickling stream with the passion of a dancer and the heart of a knight. Her elbow came up, driven into the man’s nose without a moment of hesitation. He too fell, left with only his hands to try and still the raging current of blood pouring between his trembling fingers. His hands desperately palmed the broken mass of his nose, which made his cries sound wet and gargling. A second strike, a vicious kick to his groin, ensured he would not be getting up again. Helena arched a brow. That was not something she had taught Kya. “How?” The most rotund of the three questioned, wisely keeping his hands well away from Kya as she stormed up to him. Helena knew his fear, it was once an intimate companion to her afterall. He looked at Kya as if she were the Witch Queen, something which sat uneasily in Helena’s gut. Even here, Kya was not the Queen. She had not taken evident joy in her power over these men, nor in their fear. Kya wore an entirely too calm expression, as if the violence had been a bore to her. As if the blood running down her arm was something to be nonchalant about. She was silent as she reached out, hooking a single finger into the string stretched between button and shirt. Finally, it gave out, snapping under the added pressure. Then, Kya spoke, her voice kept low as if to protect the man from further humiliation. “My wife is a war hero. I’m not the scary one.” She informed, using the tails of his shirt to wipe the blood from her arm. At Kya’s words, Helena noticed the room focus on her for a moment, awe and respect flooding their eyes in a manner that was entirely too familiar. Too uncomfortable. It was the awe and fear of Reiner’s army. How long would it be until they too saw the monster she could be? Could that be how they now viewed Kya? “She’s earned her peace, and I’ll fuck up anybody who tries to attack that. She shouldn’t have to kill anybody else to protect this country, let alone deal with shitfucks like your friends shaming her for having an ounce of happiness.” Kya continued, eyes blazing dangerously. That. That there was something the Queen never had. The heat in her eyes, the fire and compassion. Helena’s heart rose in her throat. She’d seen this scene before. The Queen, leering over her prey, leaning down to mock their failure before she crushed them. Now Helena could see it. Kya’s connection to the Queen. The heat had faded from her cheeks, yet that heat seemed to have migrated to her eyes. Where the queen froze, Kya blazed, charring the man’s willpower to cinders with but one annoyed glance. Her focused glare had him trembling, fearing what she might do next. Helena felt that fear. Had the queen claimed her lover? Was she to truly lose her happiness now? Was fate so cruel? “Your friends will need medical care. That elbow could have broken more than his nose, and your other buddy smacked his head pretty hard.” Kya added, concern filtering into her expression for a microsecond before she turned. With the grace and confidence of a Queen, she strode over to the first man, her dress fluttering around her knees like wisps of shadows and silk. She leaned down towards the man, crouching so that she could speak directly to him. “If I ever hear you dared touch another soul without their consent, then you will no longer have hands.” Kya warned, her voice a tide of outrage tempered by her own compassion. Her hand upon him reminded him to stay down, but also touched with concern. Feeling how his heart rose to meet her palm. Despite his unfocused gaze, he afforded her his full attention, staring at her as if he was looking upon an Angel. No, not an Angel. A Valkyrie of Nordic legend. A guide to the lost heroes, the one to guide their souls to peace. Helena understood, for she gazed in utter devotion. This Kya was a new creature, one embodying her soulmate, channelling Helena’s protective energy in a uniquely Kya way. Helena couldn’t help but smile, to grace her protector with an approving twitch of her lips and a nod. Kya was not the Queen, nor did she continue her violence when it was not in defence. She had picked up arms in this moment so Helena would not. So Helena did not have to. Just as Kya had promised, she protected Helena’s peace. Kya rose after a few more moments, stony eyes softened to gems as she gazed upon Helena. The Valkyrie extended her hand, fingers imploring Helena’s to weave between them with a silent little wiggle. Helena, a lost soul if ever there was one, was helpless to do anything but reach, to accept the hand offered to her. With the softest of smiles, she entrusted herself entirely to her soulmate, her Valkyrie, trusting that if Kya was not her peace then at least she would lead Helena there.

#Anonymous #lovestruck #love and legends #love and legends helena #helena klein #lovestruck helena #helena x mc #angst #fluffy angst #tw: blood #tw: violence #tw: reference to rape culture #woeful wednesday

[artificialqueens]

My Name Says It All (Biadore) - doctor bitchcraftt

“Go home hoes, where my Drag Race crown?”

“It’s in a box and it belongs to me.”

The Instagram video of Danny rapping in front of the crown on Roy’s bookshelf is wonderful, but there’s more to it than just a long running joke.

Read and comment on AO3

A/N: bitchcraftt is back with another installment of Adore and Bianca sharing a bed.  Goes from the night of the Season 6 crowning to the airing of All Stars 2.  Feedback, comments, and suggestions always welcome here or in the comments section of AO3.  Xoxoxoxo, bitchcraftt

********

“Go home hoes, where my Drag Race crown?”

“It’s in a box and it belongs to me.”

********

The Drag Race crown is surprisingly heavy - people never think about the metal frame and thousands of crystals as weight.  It perches askew on Bianca’s upswept wig, and she can feel Jinkx give it a tug to be sure it doesn’t fall.  It’s sitting on the bump she uses for height, and she suspects a queen with teased hair wouldn’t be able to support it.

Walking back into the hotel is surreal, one hand clutching the scepter and Courtney and Adore to either side.  It feels right between them, somehow.  Courtney has their arms linked, chattering away, and Bianca’s other hand is clasping Adore’s.

Their genuine joy at the announcement swept away the last of her fears that this night would change them, drive a wedge between them.  

The rest of the night is a blur.

Roy wakes up in the morning still wearing Bianca’s mascara.  There’s a weight across his legs that proves to be Shane, face first and snoring into the sheets.  On his right, Danny is snuggled close, lipstick stains still visible.  

He turns to check the time and freezes.  There on the nightstand, next to their phones and Danny’s wallet, the crown and scepter sparkle in the early morning light.

It’s 5:57, and he settles back against the pillows with a smile.

********

The crown is on display in the bookcase, scepter and painted fabric flower mounted in a case on the wall.  Roy’s used to them by now, but it was months before he could look at them and not feel a flutter in his stomach.  They’re a part of his story, as much as the fashion sketches and fan art that line the walls.

With very few exceptions, the crown stays in its box, protected from dust and fingerprints.   Roy of course takes it out to show his parents, and for Lola to admire.  It accompanies Bianca to the studio for a Magnus Hastings photoshoot (dressing up in her finale gown is enough deja vu to make her head spin), then goes straight back into the box as soon as she’s home.

After that, it stays in its box, sparkling amidst his books, until the night he has a drunk Danny on the couch.  All Stars 2 is airing, and even though Roy refused to watch any episodes beyond Adore’s stay, he knows Danny is still dealing with the emotional fallout.  Taking him out and getting him wasted seemed like a good idea at the time, and he’d hoped it would dull the edges.

Instead, he’s listening as Danny tears himself down, every bit of self criticism and doubt bubbling to the surface the longer he talks. Everything from online comments about his weight gain to reliving the unfair criticisms from the judges spills out.  Hot, angry tears trail down his cheeks, but he doesn’t seem to notice or bother to wipe them away.  

Sitting there, Roy has an idea that’s better than applying more alcohol.  He’s going to need a mirror, but Danny’s latched onto his hand and hasn’t let him more than arm’s length away since the trip down memory lane started.  The next time he pauses to breathe, Roy is on his feet and tugging their hands until Danny stands top.  He ignores the protests, guiding him down the hall and into the bedroom.  Once inside, he nudges him to sit on the edge of the bed.

”Gonna need my hand back, pussyface,” he cajoles, infusing a hint of wry humor into his smile.

”Why?”

He can tell from Danny’s frown that the next phase is going to be him wrapping both arms around Roy to make him stay put.  Before that can happen, he takes a half step back.

”I’ll be right back.  Just need to get something.”

Danny releases him reluctantly, and he moves quickly out to the living room and back again. He sets the item he retrieved on the bed, close to where Danny’s sitting facing the dresser, and climbs up to kneel behind him.  As predicted, Danny slumps back against him, face still downcast.

Gently, he nudges Danny’s head upwards.  Their eyes meet in the mirror over the dresser, red-shot olive green and amber.  

“See?”

“What?”  Danny shrugs, starting to look down again.

Roy rests his chin on Danny’s shoulder, presses their cheeks together.  He wraps an arm across his chest and continued.

”What everyone else thinks doesn’t matter.  It feels like it, but they do not get to tell you who Adore is or who you are.”

”But they’ve all seen-“

”They’ve seen what reality tv producers spliced into forty five minutes for maximum ratings.  I’m not gonna say I told you so,” he squeezes his arm tighter, “because you already know.  What I am going to tell you, and you damn well better believe me, is that you don’t need another competition to prove anything.  Not to your mom or your fans or your friends.  Not to me.”

”…I wanted them to see me.”  Danny’s voice is quiet, but he hasn’t looked away.

Roy sighs.

”You’re already a star.  You’re doing things in mainstream music that no other queen has, not even Ru.  So what if there’s haters out there?  They can fuck off, because none of them know you and if they actually loved you they wouldn’t be assholes.  Got it?”

Danny nods reluctantly.  It’s going to take more than this, but it’s a start.

He sits back on his heels and reaches across the mattress, then carefully sets the crown on Danny’s head.  The crystals reflect a million points of light in the dim room, throwing tiny rainbows everywhere.  

“You were always my winner.  And you never needed a crown for that.”

In the morning, Roy drifts back to consciousness, ignoring the low level hangover buzzing behind his eyes.  Danny has both arms wrapped around his waist and is drooling on Roy’s shirt, but his expression is finally peaceful.  

On the nightstand, the crown sits in silent witness, casting prisms of light across the sheets.  He should get up and clean it, but Danny stirs when he tries to slide off the bed, murmuring fitfully in his sleep and arms tightening.  Roy kisses his temple, waits for him to still, then closes his eyes.

He can put it back in the box later.

#rpdr fanfiction #bianca del rio #adore delano #biadore #fluff #hurt/comfort #canon compliant #doctor bitchcraftt

[vanaera]

Missed Calls

Synopsis | Namjoon realizes everything is amiss right after you dropped the greatest plot twist in his life. Now terribly confused about what he’s supposed to do, he starts to just avoid everything that may connect him to you. Luckily, you’ll never get tired to remind him he’s missing something important: he doesn’t have to be alone and that...he doesn’t have to watch your face on TV screens anymore when he can have all of you for himself in a single call.

Genre | Fluff with humor and a tinny bit of angst

Wordcount |3,776

A/N | This is a sequel to Unread Messages (I’m tagging you @spiicyari as per your request!) This will be another drabble series of mine, so expect random updates on this one too! (I will edit a header for this once I finally have a free time). Majority of this fic is inspired by the recent events in my life. Enjoy reading!

               Namjoon wakes up in his dark bedroom with the heavy silence pressed against his chest. He doesn’t need his glasses to see the pitch-black screen of his phone by his side, unlit with zero notifications. He turns to the other side of the bed, tearing his eyes from the said gadget. The unfamiliarity of the black screen being just black for too long taunts him to open it and just ask you if everything was a desperate mirage of his mind or not. It’s strange, too surreal, too good to be true that his Sun that talked with him through his every struggle is the same person as the Y/N he’s been dying to at least greet with a “hi”. And Namjoon knows anything that is too good can only exist in fantasies and dreams, such as him and Y/N finally, actually talking to each other.

                He closes his eyes and buries himself deeper in his sheets, with hopes that it can also drown the thoughts surrounding you and the factual probability of you actually writing a song about him. Needless to say, he woke up too soon for the hours to lift the heavy bags off his eyes along with a sudden urge to consume two mugs of caffeine to get him through another tiring day.

//

               “I didn’t imagine you’ll be this fucking handsome, god, I should have fixed myself.”

               “Namjoon?”

               “Huh?” Namjoon sits straight up, papers and pen dropping onto the floor and before he can kneel down to pick them up, he nudges his phone off his desk. Jimin saves it for him just in time.

               “Jesus Christ hyung, what’s with you recently?” Jimin hands him his phone, forehead furrowed in concern.“You look like you just woke up from death.”

               “Wow, thanks for the compliment,” Namjoon mutters, eyes fleeting to the notification bar of his cell. Still blank and black as always. He tucks it in his pocket. “I always look horrible, no need to point it out.”

               “I didn’t mean it like that,” Jimin seats himself across him, chin jut out against his crossed arms. “You’ve been too…disoriented lately. I mean you’re always disoriented but this week was really different. You even walked into a pole yesterday. What’s wrong?”

               “It’s nothing, just…woke up from the wrong side of the bed.” Yeah, probably he did, Namjoon thinks.

               “Alright, if you say so,” his friend turns to the front just the moment their Philosophy professor enters the room.

               Namjoon heaves a sigh. It’s not that he didn’t trust Jimin with his problems; the kid has been with him through thick and thin (even when he’s literally thinning out last year because of his schedule and Jimin religiously have to get into his thick skull that he has to eat). It’s just… Once you’re presence has become tangible to another, it becomes easier for them to map out who you are which also makes it easier for them to nitpick each part of you. And Namjoon can’t let his friends see him as a burden. That’s why he prefers talking them with you. Everything is easy for him – relaying his embarrassing stories and exploding outbursts through a digital screen with no condescending eyes to judge him; entrusting his secrets to a person on the other end of the world which is completely detached from his own; baring himself open to an unknown face he can just hit up with a message without being that vulnerable in front of another person.

                But now, you have a face in his mind, a face too familiar, a face everyone knows, and he doesn’t know if he can look at you the same way as before. How can he? He didn’t imagine the girl he loved in his own little fantasy will be actually you, the first female friend he had a platonic relationship. You even said so when you first exchanged names!

SunnyY/N  8:30 PM

Platonic relationships are so underrated.

MonJoon 8:31 PM

Yeah, I second that!

MonJoon 8:32 PM

I’m Joon btw. What can I call you?

SunnyY/N 8:34 PM

Just Sun! ☀ ☀ ☀

               “Just Sun?” Hell yeah, you’re the Sun to every fan like him, Jimin, and everyone else that loves you and your craft. Thinking about it, everything you made up perfectly coincide with everything Y/N does. You travelling around with “your parents” and Y/N’s promotions overseas also start the same time frame. You being hella busy “with your folks that you can’t even touch your phone” is in the same schedule as Y/N’s concert tour. You being unable to meet up when you’re in Korea just in time when Y/N is currently in Korea for an encore concert. You spamming the convo space about your loneliness the same day Y/N received tremendous backlash on the release of No More You. 

              Fuck it, Namjoon slumps his head against his desk. A loser like him is a million miles away from a star like you. You’re able to reach thousands of other better people out there so why settle on a plain joe like him? How did he manage to actually make friends with you? But most importantly, why did you let him be?

               “Namjoon, care to tell what’s so interesting with your notebook?”

               Fuck. Why now?

//

               “Y/N, seriously get off the phone, you’re going on live in two minutes.”

               “Wait manager Kang, just a minute,” you pulled your cerise lips in a tight smile before looking back at your phone, fingers somewhat numb from the minutes spent on it pressed against the screen.  

               Kang Solmi just turns away, already used to your antics. You’ve always been stuck to your phone since she handled you two years ago and until now, she can’t understand your fascination in the illuminated screen that have kept you up all night and all day.

               Well, it was different in other days, you usually tell her. “Just a message I have to check,” “Just one more look!” and “This person is important to me” - all of these already worn out on your tongue but you wouldn’t choose otherwise. You can’t open to her that you’ve been craving a normalcy in your life and this online friend of yours happened to give you just that. You can’t just blurt out too that you’ve been telling a stranger about things you’ve promised to keep exclusive only for the company, much less things you didn’t disclose even to your family and friends. And most importantly, you can’t tell her that stranger has been your muse for one year now that you can’t even control the rapid thrumming of your heart whenever you wake up to his “good morning, hoe.” For god’s sake, it doesn’t even sound romantic!

               But all of the things you can’t do, you can’t drag the screen down enough to change the things you sent in your convo space with MonJoon. It’s still frozen to the last message you sent him.

 SunnyY/N 1:04 AM

But I can’t wait that long, what if I say I want to meet you now?

               Shit, you must have freaked him out. You haven’t met him personally in the first place and you already scared him off. You bite your lip and scrunch your face in annoyance. “Why did I have to be drunk that day? Out of all days – and his birthday too! Why, why, why?! What did I even tell him that in the first place?!”        

 //

                 “Hey, Namjoon, You’re idol’s performing live.”

               Namjoon passes by  Seokjin, eyes immediately looking at the mini television they bought with hard-earned money to see the very reason of his sleepless nights singing her heart out to My Only Friend.

                The TV they bought was to satisfy Seokjin’s need for Netflix and his need to watch you on a larger screen without the possibility of him shattering it into shards. Well now, he could actually hear a resounding crack on his chest. It’s not real - you’re both born to be in different worlds, it’s just your imagination. “Yeah, okay,” Namjoon shrugged, legs fast as he heads for his bedroom.

               “’Yeah, okay?’” Seokjin looks at him perplexed, tone incredulous making him stop midway. “What have you eaten? You’re usually salivating just the moment your eyes land on her.”

               “I do not!”

               “You do!” Seokin presses, expecting to see the weird expressions his friend will put on his face.

               However, he didn’t expect to see the man huff in annoyance with an indignant scowl on his face. Namjoon only looks this scary when he’s really annoyed. Seokjin immediately drops the act and turns off the TV to follow his friend’s trudging.

               “Hey, what’s wrong, Joon? Sorry I was just teasing you.”

               Namjoon only turns on his back mumbling, “Nothing, I’m fine.”

               However, unlike Jimin, Namjoon knows Seokjin doesn’t entertain any bullshits.

               “Seriously, just tell me what’s bothering you. You look like a zombie these days, you almost finished our stack of coffee, and you’re being moody as hell like a 14-year old pubescent girl. What’s really up with you these days?”

               Namjoon looks away. He can’t just tell Seokjin the one he’s watching on the screen a few seconds ago was the same person he’s been going on and on to their friends as “Namjoon’s online girlfriend.” His friend will laugh his ass off and that’s the least he wanted to have in his shitty day before he goes for the night to tutor some brats.

               In his silence, Seokjin keeps his intense stare on him before he sticks out his index towards him. Namjoon waits, feeling his lungs squeezing -

               “Don’t tell me…you’re in a fight with your online girlfriend!”

               Oh right, Seokjin may not tolerate bullshits but it’s fine if he’s the one who gets to do so.

               “Damn you.”

               Namjoon closes his door, a relieved sigh escaping from his lips as  he hears Seokjin’s laughter echoing behind him along with the sound of the TV turning on to show a different artist taking the stage.

               Well, he can’t blame Seokjin from making that conclusion when it’s true he’s been like this when he’s going through arguments with you online.  The first one was last year when he insensitively sent you “you’re lucky you get the hell out of school because of your parents” in his sleepy haze while writing excruciating six essays he has to pass the next day. He immediately knew he fucked up when you didn’t reply for the next two days even though he knew you read his last message. Cue then the next three days he’s been quite snappy and sulky before Seokjin demanded him to get his shit straight and make an apology message for you. It was easily resolved. You forgave him and you went back to the same lively internet friend of his. 

              The second fight you had was still fresh in his mind. It was eight months ago when you asked him “Why are you letting yourself become an underdog to them?” in the middle of his rant about the bullshit of Yoomi, the bossy bitch classmate of his in Arts who thinks what she comes up with should always be followed by everyone. It offended him way more than anyone has thrown insult at him - probably the most offensive remark he received from someone - and it really hurt that it came from you, the person he regarded the only one who can really really understand him. The cold silence ensued for only two days before you immediately messaged him “sorry, it was really an asshole move on my part,” and though Namjoon finds it hard to easily forgive anyone who does him wrong, it was that day he realized how he can easily soften up to you and unknowingly let you settle yourself back in your special place in his mundane-as-ever life.

               But this time – this time, it’s different. He’s not even dealing with any cold war with you through the screen, but the moment he taps the icon of Send Me, he just finds himself stuck frozen with tingles running down his spine. You don’t message him after the bombing video call that threw him off his every expectation of the actual you behind the screen and – and it’s already been a week. Are you mad at him? Did you regret what you did? Or did you suddenly want to disentangle yourself from the mess of his life? Namjoon doesn’t know but at this moment he wants to cry. And so he does, sobs muffled by his clenched fist as he seeks comfort in his bed. He knows he’s gonna break down sooner or later and he’d rather do it now before he goes off to teach some spoiled brats later to fill his sad piggy bank for his MonStudio.

 //

                 Another week passes with Send Me still silent on the other side. Namjoon doesn’t have the guts to check it from time to time recently, afraid he’ll send something that will worsen the situation. And though that helps him to put his personal turmoil at bay, it doesn’t help him with the disarray of thoughts and pent up feelings filling the expanse of his inner calmness to the brim. You’ve been his support system for two years now and Namjoon knows it’s partly his fault why he’s like this when he’s the one who put you in the pedestal as the only one person that can really understand him. But he can’t help it when you really do as what his title on you says. 

              You helped him get through heavy workloads with constant checkups you slipped while staying awake with him until he finished all his requirements.

SunnyY/N (2:35 AM)

Hey, you still up?

SunnyY/N (3:45 AM)

Don’t you dare sleep on me, let’s finish this!

SunnyY/N (4:01 AM)

We’ve done it, hoe! Now pass it! I’m gonna catch a shut-eye now. ;DDD

               You gave him advice how to start reaching out from his introvert shell little by little just so he can make life easier for him

SunnyY/N (7:31 PM)

You don’t have to become an extrovert! Just step out a little in the open, I promise it will work.

SunyY/N (1:20 AM)

Don’t hate yourself too much. You know you can’t have everything under control, right?

SunnyY/N (3:56 PM)

I’m gonna send my love to you in hopes you’ll love yourself a little more each day, hoe. Here’s some ♥ ♥ ♥ from me :D

               And when he feels like giving up, you’re always there to push him back in his game.

SunnyY/N (12:37 AM)

Hey, you have to continue this. You have to shift to Music after this!

SunnyY/N (11:58 PM)

Joon, you know you have to endure this. Mon Studio, remember?

SunnyY/N (2:21 AM)

I’ll come to your studio someday and make great songs with you, so just hang on, okay?

               And now that you’ve been quite absent in his life, Namjoon knows he may easily just...burst, give up - lose control on the things he tries to keep at bay, especially now when he doesn’t need to have everyone know how much of a sorry loser he was.

               “Namjoon?”

               Namjoon’s eyes shot open at the recognition of Johnny’s voice on the other line. What the hell does their block’s president have to tellhim at fucking eleven o’clock in the fucking night?

               “Hey Namjoon, do you hear me? I have a favor to ask you about the upcoming event in the uni.”

               What the fuck, it’s already eleven o’clock and they’re calling me about school? Why did I even answer –

                And then he hears the goddamn voice of Yoomi. “Namjoon, do you actually know what you will do?”

               “Huh, what?”

               “Don’t pretend you haven’t seen it. You ‘seen’ the reminder I sent on Messenger thirty minutes ago.”

               Oh shit. The reminder Namjoon tapped on but didn’t actually read because the wonky internet suddenly caused the app to crash. Goddamn it, why does he and Seokjin have to forget to call the network –

               “Hey Namjoon, you there? Speak up!”

               Namjoon scrambles for his glasses, feet almost tripping on one another as he stands up. “Wait, wait, I’m getting up. I’m sorry I didn’t see the reminder; my net was shitty. Anyway, what is it that I have to do?”

               “So basically, we had each group assigned to make their own tagline they’ll post in their Facebook update for the event, but we’re unsatisfied with what they made up so we’re gonna ask you to redo them instead – “

               Wait, what? So this is the extra unnecessary event the block presidents planned? It’s not even graded, why do they have to stress on it too much? And why the hell should he redo the other’s work?!

               “It wouldn’t be too much on you, right?” Yoomi rattles on, “given that you score perfect in most of our essays in class, hmm?”

               Namjoon could already hear the warning bells of “this is bullshit” ringing by his ears and he could already imagine you scream “fucking hell no, bitch!” along with him to this whole bullshit scenario. But instead of voicing out his denial of the task suddenly thrust into him without his say in the matter, he finds his throat clogged up, unable to let the words be heard in the simple line connection. The cloudy haze in his sleep-deprived mind is also not helping in the situation. “Uhhm, uhh-“

               “You don’t understand, Namjoon? You don’t understand? You just have to do this and then-“

               He can’t deal with this right now. He presses the red icon of end call and puts the number in his phone’s blacklist. He knows it’s unnecessary but the panic in his veins doesn’t subside. It wasn’t until he pressed “leave the groupchat” where that damned task was messaged in was he finally able to sit down and breathe properly. His fingers are shaking, head suddenly pounding with long-withheld aggravation to these assholes who always have to disregard his consent in these activities – 

               “Why are you letting yourself become an underdog to them?”

               Namjoon couldn’t take it anymore. He has to reach you.

               Tapping the icon of Send Me, he presses the profile pic with your username to go into your convo space. He’s about to type everything that’s happening now but then – but then there’s missed calls and messages you sent earlier…this day?

SunnyY/n (5:26 PM)

Hey, Joon, I’m sorry I’ve been off the radar for two weeks. I’ve been thinking about the things I should say to you so as what happened the last time we talked wouldn’t turn that shitty but I guess I won’t be able to do so. I’m already shitty enough so I’m sorry you have to bear with me.

SunnyY/N (5:27 PM)

I’m sorry for shocking you that way. I didn’t intend to shake you out of your wits which probably scared you off from messaging me again.

SunnyY/N (5:30 PM)

I’m sorry again. I’ll be calling you until you pick up and I apologize this may come off irritating, but I just have to really talk with you again face to face.

            A notification now pops up.

SunnyY/N is requesting for a video call. Accept? Decline?

           Namjoon has never given out a reply so fast in his life.

           The screen changes to the same room he has seen in the last call. But today, there’s no bottle in the vicinity, and Y/N – you are looking at him straight in the camera, face bare and eyes clear of any tears.

           “Jo-Joon.”

               At the sound of your voice, Namjoon knows it’s time to let out the things he’s been withholding for too long. It’s his turn to cry now and as the tears run down his cheeks, you immediately do what only you can do to him – keeping him grounded. You let him rant out the things he’s been enduring all on his own – one of the spoiled brat he tutors stood him up in the library they’re supposed to meet, the scholarship he feels he’s about to fuck up with his recent unsatisfactory grades, and the shitty call of Johnny and Yoomi which is just so unfair on his part. He doesn’t mention his problem with you but you know it’s already implied when he looks at you beneath his lashes in sequences before he continues his words. It unsettles you that he has to have his guard up in front of you when you’ve been open to him for a very long time now. Anyway, you’d rather have him finally within your reach than have him completely disappearing for the worst two weeks of your life.

               “I-I’m sorry for looking like this,” he sniffs, fingers frantically wiping his wet cheeks. “I probably look like the typical pitiful underdog, I just-“

               “Joon, listen to me.” And Namjoon does. “You’re not an underdog, okay? You’re just doing your best at the moment, you always do. And these things – they’re just obstacles, okay? We’re gonna get through all of them, remember? You told me so in that long textpost of yours in Tumblr! Do you want me to go there and make a Namjoon protection squad?” you roll up your pale yellow sweater to show some “biceps” you wished you were actually working on, and this makes Namjoon laugh a little. You smile wider. He’s been defending you far too long, it’s your turn to have his back now. “‘Cause everyone’s been indirectly attacking you; I need to defend my hoe!”

               “No need, I’m – I’m gonna be fine,” Namjoon shakes off, his form calming down from his sobs. You always know how to make him smile again right after another breakdown. Letting his eyes meet yours from the screen, he still feels everything is a dream conjured by his wild imagination. It’s still too good to be true that the person he watches from afar now watches him and only him in the middle of the night. He simply can’t wrap his head around the actual possibility of everything that’s happening is actually real.

               You must have caught on his prolonged stare. “Are you – are you still weirded out this…is actually me?” You murmur but Namjoon still hears it. How can he not, when your voice was all that connected him to you when he hasn’t found out you’re actually SunnyY/N.

               “I’m not weirded out. I-I’m still shocked.”

               “With-with my bare face? I know I look horrible without make-up on and look-“

               “You still look as pretty as I’ve ever known you.” And this shuts you up.

               Namjoon takes in the image of you flushed and cheeks tinged in pink, the color making its way to his own blushing face. He can’t believe you’re actually blushing because of him. He’s still shy looking at you so closely so he casts his gaze down. “I-I don’t know if this is actually a dream or not – I-I don’t even know how to properly talk with you again- ‘cause I mean I’m your fan, and before you called me, you were just a fan, like me. By the way, I’m still fascinated how you just fangirled with me over you.”

               Your chuckles resounding from the other line makes Namjoon think he’s in cloud 9. “I swear I actually enjoyed doing that with you. One of my best stress-relievers.”  

               “Fangirling over yourself?”

               “Hell yeah.”

               “Okay, noted.”

               “But anyway, Namjoon, the friendship I formed with you with SunnyY/N is real and I hope you won’t change how you treated me through that convo space now that you know who I really am. I – I missed the normalcy I once had before my career suddenly put me in a place hard for me to personally reach anyone and – and I didn’t expect an online friend would give that comfort to me.”

               Namjoon smiles. “Of course. I’m just shaken up, I just have to get used to talking to my idols face to face.” You chortled at that along with him. “I wouldn’t want to be suddenly hoe-less just because I’m shocked you were actually the only person who gets me in so many ways.”

               “Promise me, you’ll be there for me just like how we used to for two years?” You put up your pinky in line with the camera.

               “Promise me you’ll tell me anything beforehand before you surprise the hell out of me again.” Namjoon also puts out his pinky leveled with yours.

               With a chuckle of “Promise!” just like how you type your promises in the convo space, the warmth Namjoon feels as he presses his pinky against the screen to meet yours felt too real.

               “Also, promise me that you won’t snitch my account to random people. I don’t wanna get hacked.” And at that, Namjoon giggles along with you.

               “Promise.”

                Everything still feels like a dream. But your warm smile and comforting presence on the other side makes it hard for Namjoon to turn his back away from this one hell of an opportunity fate has given him.

                It’s really good that this is real. He knows he has to bask longer in his side of paradise along with his sun.

Post A/N | Follow up! I’ve been working on requests recently so expect some of them to drop within the following weeks. Thank you for all your support! :D

All Rights Reserved © Vanaera. No reposts, modifications, and translations of content is allowed without direct permission.

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[thesoftdumbass]

Beware the Creeper

A Star Trek AOS fanfiction

Supernatural AU

Posted: October 31st, 2017

Words: 6K (because I can be a wordy hoe)

Pairings: Reader x Leonard McCoy, Nyota Uhura x Jim Kirk

Summary: You and Nyota are ghost hunters that get trapped inside a haunted hospital with supernaturalists Jim and Leonard. How will you get out of this situation?

Warnings: ghosts, weapons, abandoned sanatorium, mentions of death and disease, brief mention of suicide, brief mention of experimental surgery, brief mentions of torture, being trapped, un-edited

Pre-A/N: This fic is based off of a real place called Waverly Hills Sanatorium in my home state of Kentucky. I have never been but I’ve done some research and I hope this isn’t too off-base. I hope this gives good spoopy vibes. Enjoy!

-Tay

(This moodboard was made with pictures from pinterest)

You pulled up the long drive leading to the entrance to the hospital around dusk. Glancing over to Nyota, she smiles at your apprehensive expression.

"Are you sure we have to take this case? The kid wasn't hurt, he just got scared," you ask her.

"Yes, YN. A teenage boy saw an apparition, and when he tried to flee, couldn't get the door to open. He was stuck on the fourth floor for two hours before he was able to leave."

You mumbled under your breath something about nosy kids having to break into haunted buildings to get their kicks, while Nyota got out of the car and opened the trunk, grabbing her duffel bag.

"How about once we finish here, we can take a small break from cases and relax. Sound good?"

You vacate the driver's seat and join her behind the car, grabbing your own gear. "I guess, Ny. This place just gives me the creeps. Give me a ravenous vampire or a wendigo any day, but a haunted hospital?" You give a slight shudder at that. "I am not a fan of this."

"I know hospitals weird you out, just give it a night at least. If we don't find anything here, we move on," your best friend told you, placating.

"Okay, okay. There's not anybody here, right?"

"They closed their overnight tours for the season, we should be alone."

"Then let's go," you said, your voice laced with faux enthusiasm.

The two of you walked to the front of the building and opened the main entrance, the padlock already having been busted. You walked in, your heavy-duty flashlight illuminating the way, Nyota by your side.

Looking around the dilapidated first story, you suppress another shudder. The building seems empty except for plaster falling from the walls and dead leaves and debris coming in through broken windows. You give a sigh and follow Uhura's lead down the hallway.

Neither of you notice the van pulling up in front of the abandoned sanatorium, and you also don't notice two bickering men entering the building loaded down with camera equipment. It's only when they come within earshot and Nyota's head pops up from around a corner that you notice anything off.

"Do you hear that, YN," Ny inquires in a hushed tone.

"Yeah," you trail off, listening. "Are there people here? That doesn't sound like an apparition." Nyota pulled you into a patient room while two men walked closer and their words became clear.

"And why do we have to spend our time here?" The man with dark hair said, and his companion gave him a playful glare as you spied from behind a door. "All I'm sayin' is, we could be somewhere else. There's a place just a few miles away that's famous for their mint juleps. I read about it online."

"C'mon Bones, this is our job. We investigate creepy, haunted places, and we do it on camera. Waverly Hills is said to be one of the most haunted places in America. We can't pass up this opportunity!" the tall blond exclaimed.

Before they could pass you up altogether, you stepped into their path with your shotgun raised, Uhura behind you doing the same. The blond man yelped and dropped his pack while 'Bones' just muttered curses under his breath, raising his hands in defense.

"It's obvious y'all aren't cops, so who are you," you question them.

The pretty blond with electric blue eyes steps forward, his hands also raised. "My name is James T. Kirk and this," gesturing to the handsome brunet with hazel eyes, "is Leonard McCoy. We're supernaturalists, we travel the country recording ourselves in haunted locations. We're just here to film."

Nyota stands up from where she was kneeled checking the dropped bag. "That checks out. They just have camera equipment and snacks in the bag."

Giving them a look that simply said 'really,' the blond dropped his hands and whined defensively, "I get low blood sugar."

You rolled your eyes and lowered your shotgun that was filled with rock salt, and turned around to retrieve your duffel bag from where you left it in the other room. You returned to find Nyota standing in front of James and Leonard with her arms crossed.

"I'm sure you can find the way out," Ny says, practically shooing them away.

"Wait wait," Leonard as you learned, butt in. "Now you know why we're here, but why are you two lurkin' around here all by yourselves?"

You snort attractively. "That's not your concern, and don't you worry about us being alone, we can handle ourselves."

"Not to piss off the people with shotguns, but we're staying. We came here to do a job and we're not leaving until it's done," blue eyes stands his ground.

"Listen James, we have a job to do. So find your way out, or we'll show you out," Nyota said calmly but with a quiet authority in her tone. James and Leonard grabbed their belongings and turned around, heading in the direction of the exit.

You waited a few moments before you spoke again. "So now that those bozos are gone, ready to get started?" Ny agreed and you both headed towards the fourth floor, starting to search for cold spots.

Meanwhile, the supernaturalists were sneaking their way through the hospital, filming.

"My name is Jim Kirk and I'm coming to you from Waverly Hills Sanatorium in Louisville, Kentucky. This building opened it's doors as a tuberculosis hospital in 1910, and later renovated in 1926 to accommodate more patients. Over the years, thousands of men, women, and children spent time in this hospital for treatment. Many patients died from the disease itself, but many were subjected to bizarre and barbaric experimental treatments. Waverly Hills closed in 1961 only to be re-opened as a geriatric sanatorium a year later, where horrible conditions and mistreatment led to many more fatalities, and was shut down by the state. With such a tragic history, it is not surprising how much paranormal activity and strange happenings take place here. We're here communicate with some of these spirits, and try to help them find their way to their final resting place. Come with us as we explore this border between worlds."

With the beginning monologue for their episode recorded, Leonard stepped out from behind the camera. "You sure like to hear yourself talk, don't you?"

"Don't be mean, Bones. The viewers needed some backstory."

Bones let out an unconvinced "uh-huh" and picked up his tripod, folding it up. "Where to next?"

"I think we should go to the upper levels, there have been a few suicides in room 502, so we can start there."

When they were passing by the fourth floor, though, Leonard noticed that the door was left cracked, where it was supposed to be closed and locked. Putting up a hand to stop his friend from passing, Len crept closer to the door and pushed it open a little more. Before he could turn back around, Jim pushed past him and went bounding into the main hallway of level four.

"We've gotta check this out," Jim yelped happily.

Bones let out a loud shushing noise and followed cautiously after his friend, trying to prevent him from doing something stupid.

"Jim, those women are still here somewhere, and I don't want another shotgun barrel shoved in my face."

"Relax, Bones, I'll be careful," Jim says right before he trips over a section of the floor that had fallen in, hollering and catching himself last minute against the wall right beside him. Turning back around, he faced his friend with a sheepish smile. "That was an accident."

"You are such an infant sometimes," Bones grumbled as hecautiousl made his way into the same hallway as Jim, leaving the door to the stairwell open behind him.

"Did you hear that," you question Nyota as you're both inspecting the fourth story. She shrugs and keeps watching her EMF meter. "I'll be back," you say distractedly, already cocking the shotgun in your hands. You make your way out of the patient room you were in and cautiously turn the corner into the hallway, your face dropping into a sneer when you saw the source of the noise.

Standing before you were the two men you and Ny had sent away earlier, Leonard and James. "Are you freaking kidding me," you say with a clenched jaw.

"Nice to see you again," the blond smirks.

"I thought we told you to leave."

"And I thought we told you that we weren't leaving until we did what we came to do," he bit back.

You roll your eyes and turn away from the nuisances, making your way back to Uhura. Walking across the uneven floor, you hear more than feel, the two following in your footsteps, literally. You decide to leave it alone for now, preventing yourself from making rash decisions.

As you walk back into the large patient room, Nyota looks up from her task. "Did you find out what the noise was?"

You just walk to the side of the door, letting your two shadows make their way into the open space beside you. "We have company," your voice monotone.

Her almond eyes narrow on the men in question before looking to you. "I thought they left."

"Me too. I guess they just sneaked around the first floor before coming up the stairs."

You both turned to look at them. "Listen you two, I don't care what you do. You could dress in drag and do the hula, as long as you do it somewhere else. Have I made myself clear," Uhura sassed at them, and you gave them a smug smile.

"Ladies, I'm sure we can work something out. We can both just work around each other, we don't even have to be on the same floor," the one named Leonard said.

You and Ny have a silent conversation, coming to a decision. "Fine," she speaks out loud after a moment. "as long as you two promise to keep clear of the fourth floor, we guess you can stay." James pumps his fist in the air, and Leonard grins. "We'll walk you to the stairs to make sure you actually leave this time."

"Done! Deal," blue eyes replies readily.

"Lead the way," you gesture for them to walk in front of you.

As the four of you are walking through the cluttered hallway, James breaks the silence. "Y'know, I never caught your name," he flirts with Nyota.

"And you're not going to," she replies confidently. He keeps speaking, shameless.

"Well my name is James, but you can call me Jim. Or you could just call me." Jim's buddy rolls his eyes and you snicker at the glare on your friend's face. You reach the door that leads to the stairwell and stop, not resisting the smirk on your face as you bid them good luck in the ridiculously haunted abandoned sanatorium.

Jim pulled on the door to the stairwell, but it wouldn't budge. "What the- it won't open!"

"Let me try." All four of you attempted to open the door with increasing intensity. The door may have been heavy, but the problem was more than that.

"Guys, stop. Its obviously not going to open for us. There must be somebody keeping us inside."

"Somebody?" Leonard spoke.

"Something," you clarified. "We should go back to the room, we can try to come up with a plan to get out."

Once you're back in the patient treatment room, Leonard pulled his phone from his pocket and frowned down at it. "I don't have any service to call for help."

"Of course not. Whatever is keeping us in here obviously don't want us to leave." Nyota said, then turned to you. "YN, can you find us a way out of here?"

"I can try," you said with little confidence. You bent over and picked up your duffel bag, placing it on one of the beds to dig through it. You pulled out a map of the building and started to examine it by flashlight. "There are porches on every level for the patients to get fresh air, but we're up four flights of stairs. We could be hurt, or worse, if we land wrong. If we could get to the first floor, there's a tunnel that leads outside the grounds, they used to bring supplies in through it during winter, and also transport bodies out so the other patients wouldn't see."

You continue to study the map silently, trying to find some way out of the building. The others in your little group started thinking of other ways out. Nyota noticed that Jim was being uncharacteristically quiet, even for having just met him. "You okay," she asks, bumping his shoulder with hers.

"I'm fine, its just... I've never been in a situation like this before. The most paranormal activity I've witnessed has been benevolent spirits, they weren't trying to hurt me. I guess I just don't know what to do."

"Well, me and YN have been in plenty of situations like this before, and we've always found a way out. Have trust."

"How can I trust you if I don't even know your name," Jim said playfully, bumping her shoulder back.

"Uhura." At Jim's confused expression, she spoke again. "My name, it's Uhura."

"What, they don't have last names where you're from?"

"Uhura is my last name."

"What, they don't have first names where you're from?"

"Not one that you'll hear," and that was the end if that conversation, for now.

"GUYS!" you exclaim. Uhura and Jim shift their attention to you, and Leonard looks up from checking the footage from his body cam.

"Did you find anything," he asks.

"I think I did! There's a fire escape on this floor, it leads to a set of stairs outside the building. It might be closed, though. I've never known a vengeful spirit to overlook something like this, but its worth a try. There's also a kitchen on this level, we can look for salt there. I didn't bring any in my bag."

"Why do we need salt? And what is a vengeful spirit,” Jim asks, perplexed.

"They are usually ghosts that have been done wrong, usually by the way they died. They remain after death and try to right the wrong done to them. They act violently to try and avenge the wrong, but their obsession often leads them to hurting innocent people," Nyota explains.

"Okay, so how do we stop it," questions Jim.

"The best way is to burn the body. Cover it in salt and lighter fluid and light it up. Salt also keeps ghosts away. You can put it in the windows and doors or stand in a circle of it so they can't touch you. Eventually it can get blown away with the wind, but salt works in a pinch." You snorted at your inadvertent joke.

"How do y'all know so much about this stuff," Leonard asks incredulously with a southern accent that you failed to notice earlier.

Uhura sighed before informing them. "I am a hunter. So is YN. We kill monsters and supernatural creatures that hurt human beings. That's why we're here tonight, a teenage boy saw an apparition, and was trapped on this floor for two hours. Apparently, whatever did that doesn't like letting people leave."

"You hunt ghosts?" When Uhura nodded in answer to Jim's question, his jaw went slack. "That is so hot!" A perfectly manicured eyebrow raises. "And I mean that in the most respectful of ways." Uhura rolled her eyes.

"We should split into two groups. One can check the fire escape to see if it's open, and the other can search the kitchenette and dining area for salt." Jim and Nyota nod in agreement, but Leonard has some concerns.

"Haven't you ever seen a scary movie? That's how people get killed!"

"Lighten up, Bones. It'll be faster this way. The quicker we do this, the quicker we can go get those mint juleps you wouldn't shut up about," Jim says with an eyebrow wiggle.

Leonard's eyebrow quirks up in interest, but he still doesn't look convinced. "That's alright, Len. I'll protect you from the big bad ghost," you coo sarcastically, picking up your shotgun for safety. He rolls his eyes but comes when you beckon him closer with your fingers, handing him your flashlight. "I'll check the kitchen. You guys got the fire exit?"

"Yeah, you go on," Ny tells you.

"Try not to make out in the middle of the hallway," you call over your shoulder as you leave, not missing Uhura give you the finger, both you and Len laughing on your way out.

You make your way into the hallway with Leonard by your side, your shoulders brushing every few steps. You decide that if you're going to be trapped in a building with this guy, you should at least get to know him a little better. "So Bones, huh?"

He chuckled. "It's a nickname Jim gave me in college. It's a long story."

"All right then," you say and continue to walk in silence.

"So YN, what happens if we can't get out the fire escape?”

"A ghost's presence is stronger at night, along with the energy they can manipulate. If we can't find an exit, we're likely stuck here until dawn."

"Who do you think is keeping us here," Leonard asks.

"Well I highly doubt it's Timmy the ghost boy," you joke. "There have been a lot of deaths here over the years, a lot of creepy happenings. A lot of gorey experimental surgeries were performed back in the day, trying to treat the tuberculosis, and a lot of the patients suffered painful deaths. The boy that got trapped on this floor saw an apparition of a man in a white cloak that we think was a doctor. Honestly though, it could be any number of spirits left behind."

You were finally in the kitchenette, so you sat your shotgun down on the unsteady table and started rifling through drawers while Bones opened cabinets and searched. There wasn't much to be desired about the small room, the wallpaper peeling in some places, and sections of drywall completely missing in others. The whole kitchen was destroyed, making it hard to walk safely through it. You didn't find any table salt there, so you asked your companion.

"Anything?"

"Nope. You?"

"Nothing. Maybe we should check the dining room and the pantry," you suggest.

The two of you stay together, walking side by side as you find the pantry. There is a carton of salt there and you grab it, letting out a small excited noise.

Leonard lets out an amused huff before grabbing your hand, "Let's go tell them the good news, hopefully they have some for us."

"Okay. Oh, wait! I left my gun in the kitchen."

You and Leonard head back into the kitchen but you pause in your footsteps when you take a deep breath. "Is that... Do you smell something baking?"

"It smells like freshly baked bread," Len contributes after inhaling deeply.

You cautiously step forward to grab your weapon, feeling Bones right behind you. After picking it up, you start to turn around but freeze where you stand. Before you is a transparent figure, clad in a lab coat. Before you can even take a brreath, the apparition is turning his back to you and walking into the dining room. It disappears into thin air and you let out the breath you hadn't realised you were holding.

"So, that happened..." you say awkwardly a few minutes later, after realizing you were standing in silence. You turn to Leonard when he fails to say anything, giving him an inquisitive look. He is still staring at the space that the doctor disappeared into with his mouth gaping. It looks like he's having a panic attack, breathing shallow, so you place your hand on his. "Hey, are you okay?"

Leonard opens and closes his mouth several times but he doesn't make a sound. "Let's get you back to the room, okay?" When he nods, you steer him by the shoulders towards the hallway, in the opposite direction than the spirit headed.

You are almost back to the room when you hear a shot being fired. "Ny?!"

"Jim!" Bones comes to his senses enough to start off in a sprint before you pull him back by the arm, keeping him by your side. You raise your gun and cock it, ducking into rooms one by one and making sure you weren't taken by surprise. It feels like forever but it only takes minutes for you to arrive at your destination. You run into the patient room and see Nyota and Jim standing there, NY still had her gun raised.

"Try not to make out in the middle of the hallway!"

Jim raised an eyebrow at YN's comment and a laugh slipped past his full lips. Nyota rolls her head in his direction, an unamused expression lining her features.

"What? I thought that was funny."

Nyota rolled her eyes for what felt like the hundredth time that night. "Let's go," she grabs her own flashlight and weapon, walking to the door and not looking back to see if Jim was following her. Kirk adjusted the small camera fixated on his jacket and followed a few steps behind her.

"So if they can't find the salt, what do we do then," Jim asked, catching up to Nyota. "I mean, this place closed down thirty-five years ago and they're not exactly holding dinner parties here."

"If it comes down to it, we can empty our shotgun shells. They're filled with rock salt to make the spirits dissipate. It's not permanent, but it keeps them away for a little while."

A look of awe passed over Jim's face before a large grin took over. Nyota suppressed a smirk at having impressed him, and continued walking.

"So you said you're supernaturalists, how did you start all this," Uhura gestures vaguely, trying to start a conversation.

"When I was a little boy, my house was haunted. Me and my brother Sam would try to communicate with the spirit. It wasn't malevolent or anything, he was in the Navy in his youth, Captain Pike. He just seemed lost and in pain, and I promised myself that one day I would help other spirits like him move on to the next life instead of being stuck in-between worlds. I've spent my whole life studying paranormal entities, and I love what I do." It was silent except for the sound of their footsteps, and Jim asked a question he had been wondering. "How did you become a hunter?"

"When I was fifteen, a vampire killed my parents right in front of me, drained their blood slowly. If Jody hadn't showed up and killed the vampire, I would have been next. She took me in and raised me as a hunter."

"I'm sorry about that," Jim said softly.

"Don't be, it's in the past."

They arrived at the end of the extensive hallway and located the fire exit. Jim immediately reached for the handle, pulling with all of his strength, to no fruition.

"Bila shaka hatuwezi kuondoka," Uhura muttered to herself. "I knew it wouldn't be that easy, whatever is keeping us here wouldn't overlook this."

"What now?"

"Now we go back to the treatment room and hope Leonard and YN found salt so we can last until morning when we can get out." They start the treacherous walk back to their home base.

"I am so glad that we didn't get stuck here alone, you guys really know what you're doing," Jim admits.

"Lucky for you, because you two wouldn't last the night by yourselves."

James opens his mouth to defend himself and his best friend when he catches Uhura's smirk in his peripherals, sporting a small grin himself. "Good one."

"Thank you," Ny says proudly but her steps hesitate. Jim notices and gives her a concerned look.

"Are you all right?"

Nyota turns her head, evaluating their surroundings. "I'm fine, but we're not alone,' she says slowly.

Jim's back stiffens and he turns around in a quick circle, looking for their company. When he doesn't notice anything imediately off, he faces back around to Uhura. "There's a shadow-figure behind us, watching from the doorway to the nurse's station," she says quietly.

Jim pivots and looks toward the place in question, he squints his eyes and sees what Ny is talking about. There is a dark silhouette, shaped distinctly like a man, tall and thin. Uhura calls Kirk's name and captures his attention. "We should go back to room 423," she said, and they started walking again, the only sounds heard were their quiet breathing and footsteps crunching on the littered floorboards.

They make it back to the room and walk inside, immediately going to Nyota's duffel bag. While she is taking out her EMF reader and turning it on, Jim gets an uneasy feeling. His head starts to swivel, checking all around them before stopping in the corner of the large room.

"Uhura!" Jim yells in surprise, extending a hand and pointing his finger. Uhura stands up from her seat on a patient bed and turns to face the corner that Jim brought attention to. There stands another shadow, this time a woman in a patient gown, facing away from them.

Jim and Nyota watch as the shadow turns to face them, her features blurred. The woman starts inching towards them, mumbling repeatedly. As she gets closer, her words become clear. "Get out," the detached voice croaks out.

Nyota grabs her gun, cocking it and letting out a shot when the woman is only inches away, sending salt into the apparition. She immediately dissipated, her energy going elsewhere. "Believe me, we're trying," Ny says deadpan.

Shouts are heard from down the hallway, and when Leonard and YN return to room 423, they are out of breath.

"Nyota, are you all right?"

"What happened in here?"

Both YN and Leonard ask at the same time. After Nyota and Jim tell their story and the bad news about the fire escape, the other half of their group do the same along with the good news about the discovery of salt.

"I don't get why this thing would tell us to get out if it's keeping us here in the first place," Bones questions. By now it is past two in the morning and you've all been trapped on the fourth floor for hours, growing more tired of this place by the second.

"What if something else is keeping us here? You said the doctor didn't act aggressively, and the teen that was also trapped here was only scared by the apparition he saw, and couldnt get out when he tried to run. What if it is a completely separate entity locking the doors?" Nyota hypothesizes.

"Yeah, but what? We haven't done anything wrong to any of these spirits," Jim points out.

"It doesn't matter," you speak up. "Vengeful spirits may start out trying to get retribution, but that fixation can drive them crazy, making them forget their purpose, even who they were when they were living. Given enough time, the spirit could turn on a loved one without even knowing or caring if they are innocent or not." Then you add under your breath, "I should know."

Len hears your quiet confession though and asks while Ny and Jim venture into their own conversation. "What do you mean 'you should know'" he asks softly.

You sigh sadly before starting to tell your story. "I was little girl when my best friend died in a car accident. We were really close, and we lived right beside each other. When I started seeing her around both our houses I just thought she was coming to keep me company. I would still tell her everything, and she would listen. I guess as I grew up, I started living my life as I was supposed to, and she was angry that she never got to. I started to notice that, even though it had been almost eight years since her death, Janice wasn't the same as she used to be. Whenever I told her something new that happened to me that week, she would get angry and things would start flying. She wasn't the same girl that I used to know, and I knew it. I stopped talking to her and eventually she stopped visiting me. When I graduated high school I wanted to know more, so I started digging, and found out a lot of information about things that I didn't even know exist. I started hunting and I haven't looked back since, I just hope Janice found her peace."

After you're finished, Leonard looks at you with sad eyes. "I'm sorry, YN." You wave away his concerns and plaster on a smile. You busy yourself with looking through your duffel bag to avoid awkward conversation, instead pulling out your tire iron. Len looks at you curiously and you answer his un-asked question. "Iron, it also keeps away ghosts. Just swing it at their body and they should leave for a few minutes."

Bones raised his eyebrows and replied with a simple "Gotcha."

You straightened up when you heard what sounded like a scream coming from the corridor. "Guys?"

"We heard it," Jim spoke.

"It was only a matter of time before something else came at us. Should we go see who it is this time," Uhura asked rhetorically. You picked up the tire iron that you had previously sat on the bed beside you, handing it to Leonard and standing up, grabbing and loading your gun.

"Let's go then."

Nyota follows your actions and places another iron in Jim's hand and followed you into the hall. You follow the sounds to one end of the building and end up on the other end of the building, in the surgery wing. The wails were getting louder and more frequent, high pitched almost like a child shrieking in pain.

The screams were the loudest when you reached the minor surgery room, forcing you to cover your ears. As soon as all four of you are inside the room, the wails stop and the door slams shut. Kirk's eyes widen and he bites his lip. "I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that wasn't the wind."

"Nope," you say, popping the last sylabil.

"Great, now we're stuck in an even smaller space. Just what my claustrophobia needed," Len's grumbles reach your ears, making you smile genuinely this time.

A beam of light shines beside you, startling you. "Sorry," Ny apologizes but you also pull out your flashlight.

You walk in circles around the room while the others look around, blatantly avoiding the operating table in the center of the room. It was on one of these passes that you see it. You were sweeping your light across the ceiling, inspecting the cobwebs when your eyes move past. You do a double take and almost fall over in shock.

"What the..." you whisper, not able to find your voice.

"What?" NY asks, following your line of sight to where the creature currently was on the ceiling.

You walk backwards, bumping into Leonard who was behind you. He puts his hand on your waist to keep you steady while you recall something you had read in an article online. "The creeper."

"The creeper? I thought that thing left in the 60s!” Jim gasped as everybody's eyes followed the shadow crawling across the ceiling.

The creeper was on all fours, moving in an animalistic manner, coming to a rest above the operating table.

You were the first to take action, shooting a salt round into it, making it disappear. "So I'm guessing that's what's trapping us here."

"I'm guessing you're right," Nyota walks to your side, examining the spot that the 'thing' was just moments ago.

"Am I the only one here that doesn't know what the heck "the creeper" is?" Bones makes air quotes with his fingers.

"The creeper is a manifestation of energy that first appeared in 1967. According to eyewitness accounts, it materialized to protect a young boy that was being subjected to electroshock therapy, protecting him when the machine was set too high, almost killing the boy," you supply.

"It stayed behind after they stopped the shocks, protecting the boy from bullies in the facility and supposedly left when Shadow Eyes did. I don't know why it's back though," Jim added.

Uhura sent it away again with a spray of rock salt. "I've read reports that its been seen around the sanatorium, but it didn't do anything like this."

"So it's unpredictable. Awesome. How do we get out of here," Len asks.

"I have an idea, but I can't guarantee any positive results. It could just piss it off."

"Do whatever you have to," Kirk voices what everybody is thinking and you nod.

When the creeper shows up again just minutes later and stalking towards you more aggressively, you shout the first thing on your mind to keep it from hurting Nyota, who it was closest to.

"Shadow Eyes!" It pauses its movements but resumes just seconds later, so you try again. "We're not trying to hurt Shadow Eyes, or you. We know that you came here to protect Richard all those years ago, but now we're trapped here, just like he was."

The creeper stops moving and turns its attention fully to you. You continue to speak once you see this, still holding your weapon aloft just in case.

"Richard's parents had him brought here and he couldn't leave. He was here for three weeks and I can only imagine how that must have felt, but you don't have to protect him now. Shadow Eyes is safe. You were his guardian but he doesn't need you for that anymore. Please, just let us leave. If you let us leave and not hurt anyone else, we won't come back."

Your words have their effect and you watch as the darkness around the creature disappears, and reveals the spirit of a woman in a nurse's uniform. She gives you a grateful smile and speaks in a kind voice. "Thank you for reminding me of who I was." You nod in acknowledgement and see her leave one final time, disappearing into a cloud of white.

You are able to leave the operating room and gather your stuff from room 423, finally making your way down the stairs and outside while it is still dark. You load yours and Nyota's duffel bags into the trunk, then lean against your car, watching as Nyota and Jim say goodbye a few feet away. Leonard comes over to your side and copies your stance, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That was pretty impressive in there, you saved us all."

"That was nothing," you say humbly.

"Really, YN. I don't know what would have happened if you didn't remember all that stuff about Shadow Eyes," Len insists.

"Well, thank you," you reply, tucking a loose strand of hair behind you ear.

"Maybe tonight, after we've all had showers and some rest, we can meet up and have some of those mint juleps I've heard so much about," you suggest biting your lip and Leonard's eyes follow the movement.

"I'd like that darlin'," he replies.

"Good. I'll see you later, Bones," you give him a wink and a kiss to the corner of his mouth, sliding into the driver's seat as Ny opens the passenger side door.

"Bye Nyota,” Jim accentuates her first name, cheekily reminding her that he did learn it without her having to tell him. "Call me?"

"We'll see," she replies but by the smile on her face there is a real possibility of her doing so.

You exchange goodbyes for now and turn around in the long drive, seeing out of the corner of your eye, a shadow figure watching you leave from the fourth floor. You bid adieu to Waverly Hills Sanatorium, and leave the grounds, hopefully for good. With the creeper gone you know that future visitors will be safe, and that's all that you could hope for.

(”Bila shaka hatuwezi kuondoka” = “Of course we can’t leave” in Swahili)

In Beware the Creeper, the spirit behind the creeper was a nurse at Waverly Hills at the height of the tuberculosis epidemic, and contracted the disease herself. Her spirit stayed behind, looking over the patients still inhabiting the building. When a 12 year old boy Richard Rollins was put under ECT that was set too high, the spirit of the nurse turned into The Creeper to keep the doctors and nurses from hurting him more and followed Richard when he left the grounds, but returned years later

*

Post-A/N: Like I said, Waverly Hills is a real place with a long and tragic history. It was a tuberculosis treatment hospital at the height of the epidemic here in the US, and is now one of the most haunted locations in the country. If you want to know more about Waverly, Shadow Eyes, or The Creeper, there are more than a few articles online that I recommend you read. All of the haunted happenings that I described here have happened to real people, with the exception of the entire OR scene. I exaggerated some parts but others have been witnessed.

Some other things:

-I wanted Reader and Uhura to be BAMFs who kick butt and take names, I hope that comes across.

-Reader and Uhura are loosely based on Sam and Dean Winchester, and Jim and Leonard are (very) loosely based on the Ghostfacers, Ed and Harry.

-I am not the best with attention to detail, and I know it shines through in my fics. I sometimes leave details open and I am sorry, please disregard this about me.

-Did you catch all of the cameos/quotes/references to Star Trek in this? There are a few of them.

I procrastinated hard on this one, guys. I promise I will try harder on my fics for the Holidays, which I will try to start soon.

I think that’s all I have to say (though it is alot. Wordy hoe, remember?) Please consider leaving notes if you liked this and prove my sister wrong. Thank you all so much for reading, have a safe and happy Halloween, lovelies!

#leonard mccoy x reader #jim kirk x nyota uhura #nyota uhura x platonic reader #jim kirk x platonic leonard mccoy #star trek #star trek au #star trek aos #star trek aos au #supernatural au #haunted houses #halloween fic #leonard h. mccoy x reader #leonard bones mccoy x reader #bones x reader #leonard mccoy/reader #leonard h. mccoy/reader #leonard bones mccoy/reader #bones/reader #james t kirk x nyota uhura #james tiberius kirk x nyota uhura #captain kirk x lieutenant uhura #kirk x uhura #james t kirk/nyota uhura #james tiberius kirk/nyota uhura #captain kirk/lieutenant uhura #kirk/uhura #kirkhura #i fricking think im done with tags dang #i hope this doesnt suck but i wrote it in like a week and i suck at writing so...bye #ill just leave this here